Did somebody speed up my clock? I swear I just wrote the last weekend post a minute ago. And here it is May already. How are your 2008 goals coming along? We are almost half way into the second quarter. Time to start working on our first half of the year review to see if the year is moving along as nicely as we would like. There’s still time to get that train on the right track!
As May comes into focus, Life’s Little Inspirations is chugging right along. Welcome to everyone who has just started visiting, and thank you for being here. I am SO happy that you have found us and I hope you will feel comfortable pulling up a chair, posting your thoughts and comments and being a part of the community.
My deep desire is for everyone to feel like they can participate, chat amongst yourselves and share your tips and ideas with each other. By learning how we all deal with some of life’s challenges together, we can all help each other grow. I love getting your feedback and ideas! To my faithful readers who have been posting all along from the beginning, thank you for your loyalty and encouragement. I couldn’t be doing this without you!
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Thanks for visiting.
This week, I chose a poem from Sir Walter Raleigh. There are all types of false loves in our lives. Not only the false people in our lives that are the obvious villains of distraction and pain, but what about the time wasters? What about those seemingly important activities and situations, those hobbies and habits that are keeping us away from living the lives of our dreams? Can you bid farewell? I know that I am going to resolve to do better this next week. Want to join me?
A Farewell to False Love
Farewell, false love, the oracle of lies,
A mortal foe and enemy to rest,
An envious boy, from whom all cares arise,
A bastard vile, a beast with rage possessed,
A way of error, a temple full of treason,
In all effects contrary unto reason.
A poisoned serpent covered all with flowers,
Mother of sighs, and murderer of repose,
A sea of sorrows whence are drawn such showers
As moisture lend to every grief that grows;
A school of guile, a net of deep deceit,
A gilded hook that holds a poisoned bait.
A fortress foiled, which reason did defend,
A siren song, a fever of the mind,
A maze wherein affection finds no end,
A raging cloud that runs before the wind,
A substance like the shadow of the sun,
A goal of grief for which the wisest run.
A quenchless fire, a nurse of trembling fear,
A path that leads to peril and mishap,
A true retreat of sorrow and despair,
An idle boy that sleeps in pleasure’s lap,
A deep mistrust of that which certain seems,
A hope of that which reason doubtful deems.
Sith then thy trains my younger years betrayed,
And for my faith ingratitude I find;
And sith repentance hath my wrongs betrayed,
Whose course was ever contrary to kind:
False love, desire, and beauty frail, adieu.
Dead is the root whence all these fancies grew.
Sir Walter Raleigh