Embodiments of Love!
A reader claims love is unconditional;
Read this poem of an
Elizabethan poet
And still her grief
would not abate.
At last she bore another child, and great
was the father's joy; and loud his cry: "A Son!"
That day, to thus rejoice-he was the only one.
Dejected and wan the mother lay; her soul was numb. . . .
Then suddenly she cried with anguish wild,
Her thoughts less on the new than on the absent child. . . .
"My angel is in his grave, and I am not at his side!"
Speaking through the babe now held in her embrace
She hears again the well-known voice adored:
"Tis I,-but do not tell!" He gazes at her face.
At last she bore another child, and great
was the father's joy; and loud his cry: "A Son!"
That day, to thus rejoice-he was the only one.
Dejected and wan the mother lay; her soul was numb. . . .
Then suddenly she cried with anguish wild,
Her thoughts less on the new than on the absent child. . . .
"My angel is in his grave, and I am not at his side!"
Speaking through the babe now held in her embrace
She hears again the well-known voice adored:
"Tis I,-but do not tell!" He gazes at her face.
The stanza brings out the grief of a mother who
has lost a child and doesn't have the heart to come out of the sorrow even
as she bears another son. As she laments, the new-born held in her hands
confesses to the disheartened mother that it is the same soul that has
come again.
This stuff is related to reincarnation;
I wonder we have many lives
We will have many relationships
We will change sons
We will change daughters
We will change genders
We will change wives
We will change husbands
We will change fathers
We will change mothers
So what is that thing called LOVE, that
sustains Life?
If possible explain
धन्यवाद:
See you in the next episode
With lots of love
श्वस्ति , मङ्गलं भूयात्
राजगोपालः
rajagopal
06.10.2015
2 comments:
Love sees the invisible, believes the unbelievable and recieves the impossible. Have faith in Love....
LOVE: We think about it, Sing about it, Dream about it & Lose sleep worrying about it. When we don't know we have it, we search for it. When we discover it, we don't know what to do with it. When we have it, we fear losing it. It is the constant source of pleasure and pain. But we don't know which it will be from one moment to the next. It is a short word, easy to spell, difficult to define & impossible to live without.
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