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Book I - Part 07 - The Infinity Of The Universe

Now learn of what remains! More keenly hear!
And for myself, my mind is not deceived
How dark it is: But the large hope of praise
Hath strook with pointed thyrsus through my heart;
On the same hour hath strook into my breast
Sweet love of the Muses, wherewith now instinct,
I wander afield, thriving in sturdy thought,
Through unpathed haunts of the Pierides,
Trodden by step of none before. I joy
To come on undefiled fountains there,
To drain them deep; I joy to pluck new flowers,
To seek for this my head a signal crown
From regions where the Muses never yet
Have garlanded the temples of a man:
First, since I teach concerning mighty things,
And go right on to loose from round the mind
The tightened coils of dread religion;
Next, since, concerning themes so dark, I frame
Songs so pellucid, touching all throughout
Even with the Muses' charm- which, as 'twould seem,

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poem by Lucretius
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A spiral scratched into an ancient Irish gravestone

A centre and an expansion
a life centred expanding
the force of the centre whirls
a life without limit but it says
a centred life what gods the centre
does not tell but a centre
and from there a spiral
which has a beginning but no end
the life shaping the death the death
shaping the life it seems this life
that life could not be told
need not be told
every life drawn here
drawn because it could not be spoken
even in a lilting Irish voice
speaking a spiral sentence for
Irish sentences are like spirals
the centre expands without limit

the life was lived in the circle of the year

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poem by Michael Shepherd
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Dear Candice,

If you can't sleep:

*
Make your bedroom more comfortable, keep it cool and quiet.
*
Get up and do something else. Then, go back to bed.
*
Drink warm milk or hot water before you go to bed.
*
Take a warm bath, read a little or listen to some quiet music in the evening.
*
Get fresh air and exercise during the day, but remember: exercise before bed can keep you awake.
*
Go to bed and get up at the same time every day.
*
Don't take naps during the day.
*
Avoid coffee, tea or soft drinks after 5 p.m.
*
Don't smoke or drink alcohol in the evening—it can keep you awake.

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Forever

THERE'S NO PRESENT THERE'S NO FUTURE
I DON'T EVEN KNOW ABOUT THE PAST
IT'S ALL TIMELESS AND NEVER ENDING
TO TAKE IT IN IT'S ALL TOO VAST
IT GOES - FOREVER AND EVER
YOU THOUGHT YOU KNEW BUT YOU NEVER
THERE GOES
TOMMOROW
JOURNEY TO THE CENTRE OF ETERNITY
JOURNEY TO THE CENTRE OF ETERNITY
THE TIME IS COMING BUT ALSO GOING
AND IT'S LEAVING NEVER TO RETURN
MAYBE FOREVER IT COULD BE HEAVEN
BUT IF IT'S HELL THEN YOU CAN WATCH ME BURN
IT GOES - FOREVER AND EVER
YOU THOUGHT YOU KNEW BUT YOU NEVER
THERE GOES
TOMMOROW
I GOT TO TRAVEL FOREVER
IT'S ALL WITHIN MY MIND

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song performed by Ozzy Osbourne
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Centre Stage

There were times when I was young
I wanted to be centre stage,
the one everyone screamed to for more
whenever I sang my song.
As the years progressed
and I could see it wasn’t going to happen,
I grew content to sit in the stalls
and watch someone else take the applause.
I realized that centre stage
wasn’t where I wanted to be
and that I could entertain
just by being me.
I did not need a spotlight
to show the sparkle in my eyes.
I did not need to dress up
to be someone I wasn’t,
I didn’t need a centre stage,
I only need to be me.
I didn’t need glitz and glamour,
just an opportunity to give others pleasure

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poem by David Harris
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A Mathematical Problem

This is now--this was erst,
Proposition the first--and Problem the first.

I.
On a given finite Line
Which must no way incline;
To describe an equi--
--lateral Tri--
--A, N, G, L, E.
Now let A. B.
Be the given line
Which must no way incline;
The great Mathematician
Makes this Requisition,
That we describe an Equi--
--lateral Tri--
--angle on it:
Aid us, Reason--aid us, Wit!

II.

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poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Journey To The Centre Of Your Heart

Take me on a journey
On a journey to the centre of you heart
Let me make the journey
Wanna journey to the centre of your heart
I wanna go, I wanna go
Oh let me go, I wanna go
Baby wanna travel
Wanna travel cross the borders of your mind
Baby wanna travel
Wanna travel cross the borders of your mind
I wanna go, please let me go
I wanna go, please let me go
Take me on a journey
On a journey to the bottom of your soul
Take me on a journey
On a journey to the bottom of your soul
I wanna go, oh let me go
I wanna go, oh let me go
Baby wanna travel
Wanna travel cross the borders of your mind

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song performed by Donna Summer
Added by Lucian Velea
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First Anniversary

Like the vain curlings of the watery maze,
Which in smooth streams a sinking weight does raise,
So Man, declining always, disappears
In the weak circles of increasing years;
And his short tumults of themselves compose,
While flowing Time above his head does close.

Cromwell alone with greater vigour runs,
(Sun-like) the stages of succeeding suns:
And still the day which he doth next restore,
Is the just wonder of the day before.
Cromwell alone doth with new lustre spring,
And shines the jewel of the yearly ring.

'Tis he the force of scattered time contracts,
And in one year the work of ages acts:
While heavy monarchs make a wide return,
Longer, and more malignant than Saturn:
And though they all Platonic years should reign,
In the same posture would be found again.

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poem by Andrew Marvell
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The Watch At Midnight

Dead stars, beneath the midnight's granite cope
and round your dungeon-gulf that blindly grope
and fall not, since no lower than any place
needs when the wing is dash'd and foil'd the face:
is this your shadow on the watcher's thought
imposed, or rather hath his anguish taught
the dumb and suffering dark to send you out,
reptile, the doubles of his lurking doubt,
in coasts of night that well might be supposed
the exiled hall of chaos late-deposed,
to haunt across this hour's desuetude,
immense, that whelms in monumental mood
the broad waste of his spirit, stonily
strewn with the wreck of his eternity?

The plumes of night, unfurl'd
and eyed with fire, are whirl'd
slowly above this watch, funereal:
the vast is wide, and yet
no way lies open; set

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poem by Christopher John Brennan
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A playful destiny

Helplessness,
Sheer helplessness,
Those moments of great disappointment,
Empty pocket,
Stuffed mind,
Stuffed with various desires,
The more they strike, the less they are met,
It turns bad when we are the centre of every hope,
God is also the centre of all hopes,
But there is a difference,
He is nothing to do with our joy and sorrow,
He rewards them whom he wishes,
His treasure is great,
It never reduces,
But we have trifle given by Him,
And still we are the centre of many hopes,
We are clasped in the cruel jaws of destiny
Whom He controls with all His might,
Come what may, We will get only what we are destined to,
Whether we live or not.

poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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