We have time, by Octavian Paler

We have time for everything.
To sleep, to run here and there
To regret our mistakes and to be wrong again,
To judge others and excuse ourselves,
We have time to read and write,
To correct what we have written, and to regret what we have written,
We have time to make plans and not stick to them
We have time for illusions and then to go through their ashes later on,
We have time time for ambitions and diseases,
To blame destiny and details,
We have time to look at the clowds, the commercials or a simple accident,
We have time to dismiss our questions,
To postpone the answers,
We have time to break a dream and then reinvent it,
We have time to make friends, to loose them,
We have time for lessons which we then forget,
We have time to receive gifts that we don't understand.
We have time for everything.

There is no time for just a small amount of tenderness.
When we want that also, we die

A Confession! by Amit Srivastava

I knew Amit's poetry, he showed it before... but never have I asked him if I can put it here before today... it seemed simple in the beginning, but after reading and reading, after paying the right attention to the way he chose the words... I was even more impressed than before... He's a researcher, academician, activits, and casual writer. He's the most dedicated, deep and complex person I had the chance to meet.

A Confession!

I never did what I wanted to do,
Hardly have I cared to live the expectations through
Time kept changing its dimensions, I guess.
Although I was all about thoughtfulness
for weak, for poor and for helpless
I reached them, though my resources did not allow
I forgot the personal things and
manners of private affairs,
Ignored the hardship of problems of life,
to meet my consciousness, to feed my vendetta!
Here I am with only one life,
and a peak of it, I realized -
I cannotdo much... neither can my innocent efforts
things will be the same in this world,
the inertia will  be greater, gravitiy will be souring.
The gaps, the odds have been here...
Might will be always right!
Humanity shall still fight!
And I have just one life,
Let it live for a while -
No regrets - no complaints - just day and nights!

The old lady

Every evening when I come back from work (the hour varies, from 9 PM to 11 PM) I walk by an old lady. She is homeless. She sits on the ground, with an icon and she is always reading a religious book. It drives me crazy to see her every day like that.

She is about my height, is dressed for the cold weather outside (even -15 degrees this winter). I don't know where she spends her days, because she arrives there at approximately 5 PM and I honestly don't know if she sleeps on the streets or not. Two months ago, her clothes were looking better. Last week her clothes (same clothes) seemed used. What is odd is that she does not smell bad (our homeless people smell horrible). She does not beg. She just stays there and reads from that religious book. I used to give her money. Every evening. I still give her money, from time to time. But now I don't know why, I feel ashamed. I never listened to her saying thank you to me for giving her money. I couldn't stand that. My heart breaks into small pieces everytime I see her.

She is another victim of our communist regime and of our wonderful transition towards capitalism. There are so many like her out there. And I don't understand. If i search on Google for NGOs that deal with poverty, I find many. But what do these NGOs really do? Why aren't they helping old people?

My dream is to have money one day, much money and build a shelter for old people who end up in the streets (their children kick them out, they are tricked by others into giving them their homes or simply lived in a house given by the state before 1989 and now find themselves being thrown out in the streets because they can't buy that house - a three-room apartment here costs (or costed before the crisis) over 100.000 euros). The average salary in Romania is 400-500 euros. And the old people receive pensions from the state (we have a public pensions' system, and the private pensions market is new here). Some 20% of the old people receive state pensions lower than 100 euros (some less than 50 euros).

Theoretically, because we are a EU member state, we can access structural funds. But the corruption rate here is sooo high that you must have connections to be able to access one of these funds.Why the hell isn't my government accessing funds for these people? Why aren't the NGOs accessing funds for these people? Moreover, because we are now part of the EU, organizations like the UN invest less in Romania.

I never deared to talk to this woman. I don't even know exactly how she looks like, how her face looks like. I always wanted to take a picture of her, but I just pass by every day with the camera in my bag...And I never get enough courage to do it. What is she? A piece in an exposition?

I like his commitment, his deepness, his metaphysical sadness, his constant search, his constant improvement. Never giving up.

Song Of the Mystic - Beauty, by David

Contemporary spiritual poets:

And the child spoke unto the Mystic:

"Master speak to me of Beauty, for I have
yet to see the face of Her sacred soul."

And the Mystic answered, saying:

You are wrong my child; many were the
days when She smiled upon you, and you knew
it not.
Many were the nights when She whispered
the song of Life unto your ear, but always were
you asleep.
Be there something of more innocence than
the gentle cooing of a newborn babe?
Be there something of more purity than the
shadow of a woman's alluring smile?
Be there something of more tenderness
than the endearing look held in the eyes of a mother?
And is not the sum of such innocence, purity
and tenderness the essence of all Beauty?
Open the eyes of your soul, and Beauty shall
reveal Herself unto you.
Listen with the ears of your heart, and She
will sing Her silent melody.
And if you see Beauty where all others see
naught but ugliness, then truly do you look through
the loving eyes of God.

Kabir

In this case, words are futile