Morning Rain-Omar Akram
Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with
thanksgiving.And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him
When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay"
in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay."
And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen
to his heart;For without words, in friendship, all thoughts,
all desires, all expectations are born and shared,
with joy that is unacclaimed.
When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his
absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from
And let there be no purpose in friendship save
the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its
own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and
only the unprofitable is caught.
And let your best be for your friend.
If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its
For what is your friend that you should seek him with
hours to kill?Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter,
and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its
morning and is refreshed.
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
john william waterhouse ophelia painting
I knew it the first of the summer,
I knew it the same at the end,
That you and your love were plighted;
But couldn't you be my friend?
Couldn't we sit in the twilight,
Couldn't we walk on the shore
With only a pleasant friendship
To bind us, and nothing more?
There was not a word of folly
Spoken between us two,
Though we lingered oft in the garden
Till the roses were wet with dew.
We touched on a thousand subjects --
The moon and the worlds above, --
And our talk was tinctured with science,
And everything else, save love.
A wholly Platonic friendship
You said I had proven to you
Could bind a man and a woman
The whole long season through,
With never a thought of flirting,
Though both were in their youth.
What would you have said, my lady,
If you had known the truth!
What would you have done, I wonder,
Had I gone on my knees to you
And told you my passionate story,
There in the dusk and the dew.
My burning, burdensome story,
Hidden and hushed so long --
My story of hopeless loving --
Say, would you have thought it wrong?
But I fought with my heart and conquered,
I hid my wound from sight;
You were going away in the morning,
And I said a calm good-night.
But now when I sit in the twilight,
Or when I walk by the sea
That friendship, quite Platonic,
Comes surging over me.
And a passionate longing fills me
For the roses, the dusk, the dew;
For the beautiful summer vanished,
For the moonlight walks -- and you.
Lies About Love
D H Lawrence
Vicente Romero Redondo Painting
We are a liars, because
the truth of yesterday becomes a lie tomorrow,
whereas letters are fixed,
and we live by the letter of truth.
The love I feel for my friend, this year,
is different from the love I felt last year.
If it were not so, it would be a lie.
Yet we reiterate love! love! love!
as if it were a coin with a fixed value
instead of a flower that dies, and opens a different bud.
Your beloved and your friends
Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom
>Your beloved and your friends were once strangers.
Somehow at a particular time, they came from
the distance toward your life. Their arrival seemed
so accidental and contingent.
Now your life is unimaginable without them. Similarly,
your identity and vision are composed of a certain
constellation of ideas and feelings that surfaced from
the depths of the distance within you.
To lose these now would be to lose yourself.