换, 然
落叶纷沉枝枝空
秋雾漫天仿影踪
雪花随风足迹空
寒风大地无影踪
简单熊 28.08.2013.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Being Your Best
"Strive to be the best that you can, not the first; anyone can take away your first but only you, yourself can take away your best."
Simple Bear 06.09.2013.
Simple Bear 06.09.2013.
Learn to Love
"When we learn to love, we learn to live; and happiness is just the result from loving yourself and others."
Simple Bear 11.09.2013.
Simple Bear 11.09.2013.
The Painter
The Painter
What a fool! They say
And drove him into exile beyond into the unforgiving land
Those men of mediocrity! They are worse than beasts!
They threaten him with death by the guns of judgment
He plead in desperation and they responded with their fists
Defeated he descend onto the road into his certainty
A path filled with depressions and he fell ever so often
On his knees he teared
There was no going back he wailed
And with the shackles of assumptions chained to him
He restarted his journey with decrescent steps
And now even his watch had forsaken him
Finally he reached O those canyons of desolation
Where the sundial never worked
And where the moon flowers never bloom
He sat in the depth listening to the echoes of silence
And stared at the rocky canvas
Slowly he picked up a stick of burnt coal
And started his work on the canvas
Slowly it dawned on him
The masterpiece wasn’t in the knowledge
Or the techniques of artistry
It was him there was no doubt now it was him
He was a man of colors
He was himself his own masterpiece
It was in this unforgiving land that he learnt to forgive himself
Simple Bear 12.09.2013.
What a fool! They say
And drove him into exile beyond into the unforgiving land
Those men of mediocrity! They are worse than beasts!
They threaten him with death by the guns of judgment
He plead in desperation and they responded with their fists
Defeated he descend onto the road into his certainty
A path filled with depressions and he fell ever so often
On his knees he teared
There was no going back he wailed
And with the shackles of assumptions chained to him
He restarted his journey with decrescent steps
And now even his watch had forsaken him
Finally he reached O those canyons of desolation
Where the sundial never worked
And where the moon flowers never bloom
He sat in the depth listening to the echoes of silence
And stared at the rocky canvas
Slowly he picked up a stick of burnt coal
And started his work on the canvas
Slowly it dawned on him
The masterpiece wasn’t in the knowledge
Or the techniques of artistry
It was him there was no doubt now it was him
He was a man of colors
He was himself his own masterpiece
It was in this unforgiving land that he learnt to forgive himself
Simple Bear 12.09.2013.
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