Death is not the end.
Death can never be the end.
Death is the road.
Life is the traveller.
The soul is the guide.
The body has death, but not the soul.
The body sleeps, the soul flies.
The soul-stirring words on death and the soul in this chapter of the Gita, let us recollect.
"Even as man discards old clothes for the new ones, so the dweller in the body, the soul,
leaving aside the worn-out bodies, enters into new bodies.
The soul migrates from body to body.
Weapons cannot cleave it, nor fire consume it, nor water drench it, nor wind dry it.
This is the soul and this is what is meant by the existence of the soul.
Death can never be the end.
Death is the road.
Life is the traveller.
The soul is the guide.
The body has death, but not the soul.
The body sleeps, the soul flies.
The soul-stirring words on death and the soul in this chapter of the Gita, let us recollect.
"Even as man discards old clothes for the new ones, so the dweller in the body, the soul,
leaving aside the worn-out bodies, enters into new bodies.
The soul migrates from body to body.
Weapons cannot cleave it, nor fire consume it, nor water drench it, nor wind dry it.
This is the soul and this is what is meant by the existence of the soul.
A beautiful garden now stands alone,
missing the one who nurtured it
But now she is gone,
Her flowers still bloom, and the sun it still shines,
But the rain is like tear drops, for the ones left behind,
The weeds lay waiting to take the gardens beauty away,
But the beautiful memories of its keeper are in our hearts to stay,
she loved every flower even some that were weeds,
So much love she would plant with each little seed,
But just like her flowers she was part of Gods plan,
So when it was her time he reached down his hand,
He look through the Garden searching for the best,
That's when he found Robin, it was her time to rest,
It was hard for those who loved her, to just let her go,
But God had a spot in his garden, that needed a gentle soul,
So when you start missing Robin, remember if you just wait,
When God has a spot in his garden, She'll meet you at the gate....
missing the one who nurtured it
But now she is gone,
Her flowers still bloom, and the sun it still shines,
But the rain is like tear drops, for the ones left behind,
The weeds lay waiting to take the gardens beauty away,
But the beautiful memories of its keeper are in our hearts to stay,
she loved every flower even some that were weeds,
So much love she would plant with each little seed,
But just like her flowers she was part of Gods plan,
So when it was her time he reached down his hand,
He look through the Garden searching for the best,
That's when he found Robin, it was her time to rest,
It was hard for those who loved her, to just let her go,
But God had a spot in his garden, that needed a gentle soul,
So when you start missing Robin, remember if you just wait,
When God has a spot in his garden, She'll meet you at the gate....
Everyday around quarter past three,
you burst into the bathroom searching for me,
I get hidden by your mother while you are away,
hidden, unused for most of the day,
I feel your anger as your hand grips me tight,
I'm the one & only thing that helps you sleep at night,
I live to put scars upon your wrist,
I leave my mark I'm proud of this,
I watch as the beautiful red blood pattern drips,
and runs off the ends of your fingertips,
what possesses humans to act like this,
to scream, cry & cut their wrists,
but for now my job is clear
the reason that I was brought here
to relieve the pain
to sit by the window and watch the rain,
up until around quarter past three
when you burst into the bathroom searching for me...
you burst into the bathroom searching for me,
I get hidden by your mother while you are away,
hidden, unused for most of the day,
I feel your anger as your hand grips me tight,
I'm the one & only thing that helps you sleep at night,
I live to put scars upon your wrist,
I leave my mark I'm proud of this,
I watch as the beautiful red blood pattern drips,
and runs off the ends of your fingertips,
what possesses humans to act like this,
to scream, cry & cut their wrists,
but for now my job is clear
the reason that I was brought here
to relieve the pain
to sit by the window and watch the rain,
up until around quarter past three
when you burst into the bathroom searching for me...
I once had a cute best friend,
He promised to be with me till the end.
He promised to wipe my tears anytime,
He promised to make me happy every time.
He left me with incurable pain,
All my care and trust was in vain,
I was left alone with tears,
But he enjoyed his life with bear!
He don’t need me anymore he say,
I am nothing but part of his way,
I kept crying for him day and night,
Keep waiting for him just for one sight!
He is happy and doesn’t care for me,
He broke my heart for a matter of fun.
Now am wearing smile always on my face,
Hiding my pain for everyone i face!
He is gone very far away,
But I miss him everyday always
But as the life has to go on,
So I keep on smiling on and on… on and on!
He promised to be with me till the end.
He promised to wipe my tears anytime,
He promised to make me happy every time.
He left me with incurable pain,
All my care and trust was in vain,
I was left alone with tears,
But he enjoyed his life with bear!
He don’t need me anymore he say,
I am nothing but part of his way,
I kept crying for him day and night,
Keep waiting for him just for one sight!
He is happy and doesn’t care for me,
He broke my heart for a matter of fun.
Now am wearing smile always on my face,
Hiding my pain for everyone i face!
He is gone very far away,
But I miss him everyday always
But as the life has to go on,
So I keep on smiling on and on… on and on!
The light slowly fading,
I see a familiar puddle,
so dark and so black,
I look back to my wrists,
saw that smooth cut,
So fine under that blanket of blood.
I see this everyday,
Each time looking so new I never seem to know why though,
that little trickle of blood, letting it fall into a puddle, turning so dark inside.
When I'm done I clean the puddle,
The rag covered in red,
I grab my arm bands slip them over my fresh slashes,
Pull my sleeves down around them, throw the towel in the wash and leave.
Later I find myself sitting in my room sitting by the window i stare down at the cuts,
Thinking about what each one ment to me,
As I made one so deep so sweet, it leaves me thinking so quite
I fall asleep to my own sweet cry and dream about the way I die.
It comes to me so clear it wasn't ment to be I should not be in this world
do I wake up or not?
I see a familiar puddle,
so dark and so black,
I look back to my wrists,
saw that smooth cut,
So fine under that blanket of blood.
I see this everyday,
Each time looking so new I never seem to know why though,
that little trickle of blood, letting it fall into a puddle, turning so dark inside.
When I'm done I clean the puddle,
The rag covered in red,
I grab my arm bands slip them over my fresh slashes,
Pull my sleeves down around them, throw the towel in the wash and leave.
Later I find myself sitting in my room sitting by the window i stare down at the cuts,
Thinking about what each one ment to me,
As I made one so deep so sweet, it leaves me thinking so quite
I fall asleep to my own sweet cry and dream about the way I die.
It comes to me so clear it wasn't ment to be I should not be in this world
do I wake up or not?