My mind in constant turmoil with my soul, A restless dance, a struggle to control. In whispers dark and shadows deep, They wage a war that steals my sleep.
Thoughts collide like storm-tossed seas, Seeking answers, longing for peace. In every conflict, in every fight, I search for calm, for gentle light.
Yet in this chaos, hope does gleam, A quiet strength, a distant dream. To calm the mind, to soothe the soul, Is to make the weary body whole.
Breath by breath, I find my way, To peace that dawns like breaking day. In stillness found, in moments sweet, My heart and soul at last can meet.
For when the mind and soul align, In harmony, pure and divine, The body follows, strong and free, In perfect peace and unity.
So here I stand, with open heart, To heal the wounds, to play my part. To calm the storm, to find the whole, A tranquil mind, a peaceful soul.
When you get knocked down, rise once more, Let your spirit soar, don't keep score. Though life's trials may test and confound, Stand tall, keep your feet on the ground.
With each setback, find your inner light, Keep smiling through the darkest night. For strength lies not in never falling, But in the grace of rising, always calling.
Embrace the journey, each stumble and leap, In the heart's resilience, joy you'll keep. So when you get knocked down, get back up, And let your smile brim, fill your cup.
In the world, there are two kinds of souls, One's story is of highs, the other's of lows. The down and out, worn by life's cruel hand, Walking on pathways made of shifting sand.
They’ve seen the nights darker than pitch, Seeking solace in dreams that seldom stitch. With hearts heavy, burdened by the fight, They struggle for a glimpse of morning light.
Then there's the up and out, reaching the sky, Yet inside, they too, heave a silent sigh. They've climbed the peaks, tasted the stars, But still find emptiness amid their scars.
Their battles are hidden behind smiles so bright, Concealing the shadows that come with their height. For up above, the air is thin and cold, Where loneliness creeps as stories unfold.
Both wander through life, in search of peace, One hoping for dawn, the other release. In different ways, their paths entwine, Sharing the quest for a sign, divine.
So, raise your eyes and see them clear, In every face, a story near. The down and out, the up and out, Both echo life's perpetual bout.
Early to bed and early to rise, Beneath the soft and starlit skies, Brings health and wealth to those who keep The promise of a restful sleep.
When dawn awakens with gentle light, And bids farewell to the quiet night, The morning whispers to the wise, "Awake, and see the new day’s prize."
For in the early hours we find A clarity, a peace of mind, A vigor that the morning brings, To chase our dreams on tireless wings.
The sun ascends, the world awakes, Opportunity it makes, For those who greet the day with cheer, And seize each moment without fear.
So rest your head when night descends, And rise before the daylight ends, For health and wealth, and wisdom’s grace, Are gifts for those who keep this pace.
In simple truths, these words confide, With diligence as our trusted guide, Early to bed and early to rise, Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.
"Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise" Benjamin Franklin
In the valley deep and low, Where shadows stretch and cold winds blow, God plants a vision in our sight, A dream that glimmers in the night.
He takes us through the rugged land, With firm and gentle guiding hand, To shape us in His perfect mold, In valleys dark, His truths unfold.
It’s here our hearts are tried and torn, Amidst the struggles, faith is born, So many faint and lose their way, Forgetting dawn follows the gray.
Yet patience holds the sacred key, To see what we are meant to be, For every vision, bright and clear, Becomes more real year by year.
In valleys where we fear and strain, We learn to rise above the pain, Each trial shapes the soul’s pure gold, Until His vision we behold.
Isa 35:7 The burning sand will become a pool, the thirsty ground bubbling springs. In the haunts where jackals once lay, grass and reeds and papyrus will grow.
In the quiet halls where whispers flow, I stood as a guide where shadows grow, A Funeral Director, in solemn grace, Helping families in their grief-stricken place.
Through endless tears and nights so long, I offered solace, kept hearts strong, Solving puzzles of sorrow's maze, Lifting burdens in a tender haze.
On call by day, by night, each hour, A steadfast presence, a calming power, Leaving meals, prayers half-said, To comfort souls in mourning's dread.
In the sanctity of shared despair, A light of hope, a breath of air, Bringing peace where pain had thrived, In the act of care, I felt alive.
For in the service of the grieving heart, A sacred duty, a hallowed art, To ease the ache, to bring relief, A balm to the endless tide of grief.
