There was neither death nor immortality then. There was not distinction of day or night. That alone breathed windless by its own power. Other than that there was not anything else.
There was neither death nor immortality then. There was not distinction of day or night. That alone breathed windless by its own power. Other than that there was not anything else.
When meditation is mastered, the mind is unwavering like the flame of a lamp in a windless place.
The world was young, the mountains green, No stain yet on the Moon was seen, No words were laid on stream or stone When Durin woke and walked alone. He named the nameless hills and dells He drank from yet untasted wells He stooped and looked in Mirrormere And saw a crown of stars appear As gems upon a silver thread Above the shadow of his head. The world is grey, the mountains old, The forges fire is ashen-cold No harp is wrung, no hammer falls The darkness dwells in Durins halls The shadow lies upon his tomb In Moria, in Khazad-dm. But still the sunken stars appear In dark and windless Mirrormere There lies his crown in water deep, Till Durin wakes again from his sleep.
Here's to the wind blowing against this lighted houseand to the vast, windless spaces between the stars.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories