©Aliana Alani 2015
Soft in the light I wander
Angels hovering – waiting, protecting
‘To be or not to be’ sing the strains of Hamlet
The air ripe with questions
Perhaps even possibilities
And I, riding their undulating waves,
Await answers – but from where
To be –
what would that mean –
exactly?
©Aliana Alani 2014
Listen to the winds
Everywhere there is poetry
Everywhere, a story
Your life and mine
The man in the street with a cup and a sign
The story it says of him
The story he has yet to tell
Listen to the winds
Whispers and prayers
Whispers and blessings
Listen
The Gucci bag and the bling tell a tale
But what’s inside tells more
The country, the clan, the lone wolf
All dancing on song lines from yesterday to tomorrow
Beating a drum, a heartbeat, a rhythm
Of passion and promise, sorrow and longing
Desires and dreams
Everywhere there is poetry
Everywhere, a story
Listen to the winds
Listen
For sharing his amazing talent and beauty with us all … for daring to always push the envelop as an actor … and for being an inspiration to the world of story – THANK YOU.
This poem comes to mind – for his family, for his friends, and for those of us who never knew him personally but somehow feel the loss …
It is by Mary E Faye and it is called: I DID NOT DIE
Do not stand at my grave and forever weep.
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and forever cry.
I am not there. I did not die.
Bless your heart, Philip Seymour Hoffman. We are richer because you were here.
As we begin to crest the wave of the holiday season and move closer to the end of a year, many of us start, once again, to ponder dreams and desires, both new and old. Forget the resolutions. This is more about the questions that help us sculpt a new world for ourselves. Questions like: what is a our heart’s desire, what do we truly love to do and are we doing it, how would we like to spend each day of the next year of our lives, and for some, with whom? Are we daring to love? And then there’s the larger question – what do we want for our world?
Dreams (and desires) are like stories waiting to be told. Sometimes we dare to look in their direction, feel a flutter in our hearts, and act. Sometimes they filter through the night space rather than the day, hovering.
As I ponder the power such dreams can hold and what waits in those proverbial wings, a wonderful Irish poet comes to mind. Someone whose work I have a fondness for – William Butler Yeats.
Below is a poem in which resides a segment many have come to know. I offer it to you as food for thought. I sense that Yeats would have liked that.
AEDH WISHES FOR THE CLOTHS OF HEAVEN –
BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS
Had I the heaven’s embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
“The job of the artist is always to deepen the mystery.”
… Francis Bacon
22shangrila 