~~Grace-Notes~~

**For every piece of beauty, there is a dark thought **

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I am the mother of sorrows,
I am the ender of grief;
I am the bud and the blossom,
I am the late-falling leaf.

I am thy priest and thy poet,
I am thy serf and thy king;
I cure the tears of the heartsick, When I come near they shall sing.

White are my hands as the snowdrop;
Swart are my fingers as clay;
Dark is my frown as the midnight, Fair is my brow as the day.

Battle and war are my minions, Doing my will as divine;
I am the calmer of passions,
Peace is a nursling of mine.

Speak to me gently or curse me, Seek me or fly from my sight;
I am thy fool in the morning,
Thou art my slave in the night.

Down to the grave will I take thee, Out from the noise of the strife; Then shalt thou see me and know me—Death, then, no longer, but life.

Then shalt thou sing at my coming, Kiss me with passionate breath, Clasp me and smile to have thought me Aught save the foeman of Death.

Come to me, brother, when weary, Come when thy lonely heart swells; I’ll guide thy footsteps and lead thee Down where the Dream Woman dwells.

“PARADOX”

By Paul Lawrence Dunbar

Filed under poetry poem paradox dunbar

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The Haunted Palace by Edgar Allen Poe (from The Fall of the House of Usher)

In the greenest of our valleys
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace -
Radiant palace - reared its head.
In the monarch Thoughts dominion -
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair.

Banner yellow, glorious, golden,
on its roof did float and flow;
(This - all this - was in the olden Time long ago)
And every gentles air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odor went away.

Wanderers in that happy valley
Through two luminous windows saw
Spirits moving musically
To a lutes well-tuned law,
Round about a throne, where sitting
(Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of realms was seen.

And all with pearl
and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,
And sparkling evermore
A troop of echoes
whose sweet duty
Was but to sing In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed in monarch’s high estate;
(Ah, let us mourn,
for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him, desolate!)
And round about his home,
the glory
That blushed and bloomed
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time, entombed.

And travelers now within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows, see
Vast forms that move fantastically
To a discordant melody;
While, like a rapid ghastly river,
Through a pale door,
A hideous throng
rush out forever,
And laugh -
but smile no more.

Filed under poetry poem edgar allen poe

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Diary of Dissonance: "The Matter of Mind Over Matter" © by D.

diary-of-dissonance:

Spirits of the earth, awaken.
No matter how you do your praying.
Dark shadows of inside, you’re slaying.
Only our shell that’s aging.

All, except the ALL bound by iron laws.

Only a life in the blink of an eye
A thought held for a limited time.
To raise past the planes
Step outside of your name.
With truth as your constant refrain.

To hold sway on lower planes,
apply the laws of those above
Your just in a dream,
but must know your real
with unstoppable vibrations!
You must deny that matter’s
the master of you.
Don’t forget its relative aspect
So long as you dwell inside it.
Knowing a law won’t make it less efficient.
They’re in full effect and may only be overcome
by higher laws of being.

Only by this!! Only by this!!
but by being what you are,
from the laws
you may never break free
Not completely.

Filed under poem poetry prose spilled ink hermetics occult all mind esoteric matter consciousness