For sure, life consists of both blessings and abuses. The former might outweigh the latter, and vice versa. For example, when our mind and body function normally and our general health is good, we feel the urge to express the fact that the effect is a definite blessing, but when the mind and body become susceptible to illness, we might think otherwise. The streams of life meander along paths that are both smooth and rough. When we say that life is not a bed of roses, it is not because there are no roses around, but also bushes and shrubs with thorns that can prick us from time to time. Good and evil keep crossing one another and collide from time to time. In fact, our planet had begun with a bang, considered as an “abuse” that had gradually become a “blessing.” When we sow the seeds that provide the foods that we eat, the benefit derived thereby should be considered a blessing, but when we sow the seeds of evil, the results therefrom are abuses that humanity must contend with. Computer technology marks the beginning of an unprecedented blessing; yet the blessing has also become and invitation to abuses by those that indulge to profit by its inherent blessing. The distinction in society is an amalgamation of blessings and abuses. Evil can somehow overpower good under certain circumstances. The difference between blessing and abuse can be clearly defined: We do not have to think too long before we choose to indulge in the spontaneity of fulfilling the blessings of life, but when we decide to resort to abusing others, we feel suspended in the possibility that we might, sooner or later, be held responsible for our wrongdoings and punished. Nothing can be further from the truth that the evil of abuses hide in the unseen corners of our existence, while the acts of blessing are straightforward and revealing.
It seems like it was only yesterday
When I had left that unpretentious abode
Where within its protective walls
I had enjoyed my memorable haven
Where I had nurtured my roots,
Oblivious to passing time;
I remember the big, old tree,
That appeared gnarled and ready
To fend off the onslaught
Of the elements; I wonder if it
Still stands firmly planted
Battling storms of wind and rain,
The heat of the midday sun —
A cool sentinel in proximity
To my bedroom window.
I would intently listen
To its expostulations reiterated
In the wild shivers of its limbs;
I remember the landscape around
Where Nature had stamped
Its form indelibly; the stirring
Melody of songbirds falling gently
On my ears at the break of dawn;
The sunlight filtering through
My window in the morning;
The summer breeze wafting
The aroma of roses in full bloom,
Alluding to yet another
Pleasant day in the making.
I cannot turn back the clock, but
There is another one in my head —
One with unseen pointers, moving
Across an unseen dial,
Registering times of days gone by,
Its pendulum swinging
Backward and forward in concert
With the master clock of eternity.
The inevitable link between The United States and the State of Israel can only be broken if and when the U. S. separates itself from its past, based on the fact that it had faithfully given its credence to the veracity of the Old Testament on which its time-honored Constitution had seen the Light of Day. Neither the Republicans nor the Democrats will ever alienate themselves from the spiritual edifice of the glory of such a link, considering that one party alone, cannot sanction such an unfortunate outcome without the other’s approval and consent.
As an established state, Israel has the right to address any institution, both nationally and internationally, regardless of objections, a privilege that representatives of other nations enjoy. Any kind of invitation in this respect, wherever it may be, can either be accepted or rejected. No president of the United States, in his right mind, will ever dare to break the link that began long before the re-establishment of the State of Israel, both spiritually and politically, a fact that is deep-rooted in its history.
In my opinion, the resulting calamity within each other’s borders might lead to consequences of unpredictable adversity which nobody in Israel or the United States can afford to entertain.
Lo and Behold the lush vegetation!
The color-crazed passion of flowers,
With no cessation to my wondering as to
The power that be, holding together
Trees, both young and old,
Peacefully acknowledging one another,
Positioned in a common mold
Of co-existence; the humility of
Silence, the tranquility and poise,
Conveying a message of parity
And abiding unity with the earth,
The leaping liveliness of perennially
Awakened spirits of rebirth,
Emanating from seeds of love
That mystifies the analytic mind!
The yielding, surrounding air,
Being redolent with scent
That all living creatures share,
There being no fleeting frenzy in moments
Where bushes, beds and groves
Peacefully enjoy a private love affair.
He seemed not at his wits’ end,
Nor mad at the world at all,
A makeshift home was all he had
Beside a concrete wall —
A plywood box, large enough
To house his body small.
He wasn’t even begging,
Nor was he looking sad;
There seemed no real reason
To grieve or to be mad,
For the world seemed unrelated
To the little things he had.
When music fell upon his ears,
It was the wind’s refrain —
A threatening prelude to, perhaps,
The imminence of rain;
His neighbors were the alley cats,
Mewing all in vain.
And so the box had served him fair
Until the winter came,
As if to play an awful joke —
A cold, relentless game!
The box he cherished as a home
Could never be the same.
Time that fleets never takes away
the rhythm of a heart that throbs
stifles not the breath of God
that living beings must share
and equally partake.
Oh, let us each promise —
A promise to keep —
Love’s harvest of bliss
Be ours to reap;
That such an attainment —
Your true love and mine —
Shall stand up unbent
And eternally shine;
That no trouble adverse,
Nor sorrow that be
Come near us to curse
Our love that is free!
Our years when maturing
Stay seasoned with love,
With freedom enduring,
As from heaven above;
That doubt be behind us,
Nor shadows be haunting,
And true love that binds us
Never be wanting
In radiance like flowers
That gorgeously bloom,
Letting Love’s hours
Stay empty of gloom.
Oh, let us each promise
What we reap we treasure
Love’s heavenly bliss,
With full force and measure.
It is not enough that we must try
to remain in touch with simple reality;
we must also accept it as the groundwork
of our mortality; and as we try to adjust our
dealings in line with its unchallenged
authority, it behooves us to sharpen
our perspectives in every area of life, while
listening to the sounds of its universal
rhythms, as we struggle to mitigate
the harshness of fear, doubt and