The Fortress
I have a fortress and it is there deep inside me,
I can retreat there whenever just to be.
It is my escape I think,
For when I’m there I’m free
It gives me protection which is ever so strong
No one can destroy it, as that would be wrong.
Is it my heart, is it my soul
Whatever it is, it’s where I belong
I have a fortress with flags that fly high,
Flags that billow proudly even though I may sigh.
I have a fortress with drawbridge and all,
Down it will go in response to a call.
My fortress is where I will find love,
With this I may soar as high a dove.
Hurt and deceit and this is where I will be,
Though I know the sun may be shining above.
This fortress is something we all have forgot,
Just look inside and see what you’ve got.
A place to cherish a place to call home,
We all have one believe this or not.
Being but men, we walked into the trees
Being but men, we walked into the trees
Afraid, letting our syllables be soft
For fear of waking the rooks,
For fear of coming
Noiselessly into a world of wings and cries.
If we were children we might climb,
Catch the rooks sleeping, and break no twig,
And, after the soft ascent,
Thrust out our heads above the branches
To wonder at the unfailing stars.
Out of confusion, as the way is,
And the wonder, that man knows,
Out of the chaos would come bliss.
That, then, is loveliness, we said,
Children in wonder watching the stars,
Is the aim and the end.
Being but men, we walked into the trees.- Dylan Thomas
In the gloom and darkness of the night, when there is a sudden flash of light, a person will recognize objects; in the same way, the one with a flash of insight sees according to reality—‘This is how sorrow works; this is how it arises; this is how it can come to an end; this is the path leading to that end.’
- Anguttara Nikaya
”Resolve to be tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving and tolerant with the weak and wrong. Sometime in your life, you will have been all of these.”
— Siddhārtha Gautama
