�Be the change you want to see in the world.��Mahatma Gandhi
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�I can�t change the direction of the wind but I can adjust my sails to always reach my destination.��Jimmy Dean
�Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. To keep our faces toward change and behave like free spirits in the presence of fate is strength undefeatable.��Helen Keller
�No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don�t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life�s change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new.��Steve Jobs
Midweek Motif ~ Change
Change often brings variety in life and I wonder if it could be called the spice of life if it�s for the better.
A little bit rearrangement of the same furniture in a room or downsizing or bringing home a new piece gives the taste of newness adding a color to the mind.
The seasons change their fragrance, birdsongs, hues and even warmth. We welcome this change with open arms.
How do we accept change in our personal life, in our society, in the political arena? Nothing ever remains the same once �Change� takes place. How should we react if it�s not to our own liking?
Shall we be The Change ourselves?
Share your poem with the motif Change.
Sonnet 123
by William Shakespeare
No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change.
Thy pyramids built up with newer might
To me are nothing novel, nothing strange;
They are but dressings of a former sight.
Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire
What thou dost foist upon us that is old,
And rather make them born to our desire
Than think that we before have heard them told.
Thy registers and thee I both defy,
Not wond'ring at the present, nor the past,
For thy records, and what we see doth lie,
Made more or less by thy continual haste:
This I do vow and this shall ever be:
I will be true despite thy scythe and thee.
Thy pyramids built up with newer might
To me are nothing novel, nothing strange;
They are but dressings of a former sight.
Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire
What thou dost foist upon us that is old,
And rather make them born to our desire
Than think that we before have heard them told.
Thy registers and thee I both defy,
Not wond'ring at the present, nor the past,
For thy records, and what we see doth lie,
Made more or less by thy continual haste:
This I do vow and this shall ever be:
I will be true despite thy scythe and thee.
Me, Change! Me, Alter!
By Emily Dickinson
Me, change! Me, alter!
Then I will, when on the Everlasting Hill
A Smaller Purple grows�
At sunset, or a lesser glow
Flickers upon Cordillera�
At Day's superior close!
Then I will, when on the Everlasting Hill
A Smaller Purple grows�
At sunset, or a lesser glow
Flickers upon Cordillera�
At Day's superior close!
I (From White Flock)
By Anna Akhmatova
We thought we were beggars, we thought we had nothing at all
But then when we started to lose one thing after another,
Each day became
A memorial day --
And then we made songs
Of great divine generosity
And of our former riches.
Change Upon Change
By Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Five months ago the stream did flow,
The lilies bloomed within the sedge,
And we were lingering to and fro,
Where none will track thee in this snow,
Along the stream, beside the hedge.
Ah, Sweet, be free to love and go!
For if I do not hear thy foot,
The frozen river is as mute,
The flowers have dried down to the root:
And why, since these be changed since May,
Shouldst thou change less than they.
And slow, slow as the winter snow
The tears have drifted to mine eyes;
And my poor cheeks, five months ago
Set blushing at thy praises so,
Put paleness on for a disguise.
Ah, Sweet, be free to praise and go!
For if my face is turned too pale,
It was thine oath that first did fail, --
It was thy love proved false and frail, --
And why, since these be changed enow,
Should I change less than thou.
The lilies bloomed within the sedge,
And we were lingering to and fro,
Where none will track thee in this snow,
Along the stream, beside the hedge.
Ah, Sweet, be free to love and go!
For if I do not hear thy foot,
The frozen river is as mute,
The flowers have dried down to the root:
And why, since these be changed since May,
Shouldst thou change less than they.
And slow, slow as the winter snow
The tears have drifted to mine eyes;
And my poor cheeks, five months ago
Set blushing at thy praises so,
Put paleness on for a disguise.
Ah, Sweet, be free to praise and go!
For if my face is turned too pale,
It was thine oath that first did fail, --
It was thy love proved false and frail, --
And why, since these be changed enow,
Should I change less than thou.
Please share your new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others in the spirit of the community�
(Next week Susan�s Midweek Motif will be ~ Faith)
