£egend of a Thornbird... on Deepika.Dk's...Trails of The Virtual CoffeeHouse

There is a legend about a bird which sings just once in its life, more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. From the moment it leaves the nest it searches for a thorn tree, and does not rest until it has found one. Then, singing among the savage branches, it impales itself upon the longest, sharpest spine. And, dying, it rises above its own agony to outcarol the lark and the nightingale. One superlative song, existence the price. But the whole world stills to listen, and God in His heaven smiles. For the best is only bought at the cost of great pain… Or so says the legend.
Each of us has something within us which won't be denied, even if it makes us scream aloud to die. We are what we are, that's all. Like the old Celtic legend of the bird with the thorn in its breast, singing its heart out and dying. Because it has to, its self-knowledge can't affect or change the outcome, can it? Everyone singing his own little song, convinced it's the most wonderful song the world has ever heard. Don't you see? We create our own thorns, and never stop to count the cost. All we can do is suffer the pain, and tell ourselves it was well worth it
Colleen McCullough, The Thorn Birds
【Photo courtesy Google】

Deepika.Dk....n....£ove in the *COFFEE SHOP*

"Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop"

I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you

Yes there's a chance that I've fallen quite hard over you.

I've seen the paths that your eyes wander down

I want to come too

I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you

No one understands me quite like you do

Through all of the shadowy corners of me

I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop

I love so much

All of the while I never knew

I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop

I love so much

All of the while I never knew

I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you

Yes there's a chance that I've fallen quite hard over you.

I've seen the waters that make your eyes shine

Now I'm shining too

Because oh because

I've fallen quite hard over you

If I didn't know you, I'd rather not know

If I couldn't have you, I'd rather be alone

I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop

I love so much

All of the while I never knew

I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop

I love so much

All of the while, I never knew

All of the while, all of the while,

it was you

Piano....D.H £awrence

Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;
Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see
A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings
And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings.

In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song
Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside
And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano our guide.

So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour
With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour
Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.

Often rebuked yet always back returning...€mily Bronte

Often rebuked, yet always back returning
    To those first feelings that were born with me,
And leaving busy chase of wealth and learning
    For idle dreams of things which cannot be:

To-day, I will seek not the shadowy region;
    Its unsustaining vastness waxes drear;
And visions rising, legion after legion,
    Bring the unreal world too strangely near.

I’ll walk, but not in old heroic traces,
    And not in paths of high morality,
And not among the half-distinguished faces,
    The clouded forms of long-past history.

I’ll walk where my own nature would be leading:
    It vexes me to choose another guide:
Where the gray flocks in ferny glens are feeding;
    Where the wild wind blows on the mountain side.

What have those lonely mountains worth revealing?
    More glory and more grief than I can tell:
The earth that wakes one human heart to feeling
    Can centre both the worlds of Heaven and Hell.

Fall £eaves fall...€mily Bronte

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.

Retrospect by Rupert brooke

In your arms was still delight,
Quiet as a street at night;
And thoughts of you, I do remember,
Were green leaves in a darkened chamber,
Were dark clouds in a moonless sky.
Love, in you, went passing by,
Penetrative, remote, and rare,
Like a bird in the wide air,
And, as the bird, it left no trace
In the heaven of your face.
In your stupidity I found
The sweet hush after a sweet sound.
All about you was the light
That dims the greying end of night;
Desire was the unrisen sun,
Joy the day not yet begun,
With tree whispering to tree,
Without wind, quietly.
Wisdom slept within your hair,
And Long-Suffering was there,
And, in the flowing of your dress,
Undiscerning Tenderness.
And when you thought, it seemed to me,
Infinitely, and like a sea,
About the slight world you had known
Your vast unsconsciousness was thrown . . . 
    O haven without wave or tide!
Silence, in which all songs have died!
Holy book, where hearts are still!
And home at length under the hill!
O mother quiet, breasts of peace,
Where love itself would faint and cease!
O infinite deep I never knew,
I would come back, come back to you,
Find you, as a pool unstirred,
Kneel down by you, and never a word,
Lay my head, and nothing said,
In your hands, ungarlanded;
And a long watch you would keep;
And I should sleep, and I should sleep!

The work of the genius... continues

"The Place I Stopped Briefly"
I know because I've seen your footsteps, sometimes the road gets so dark, you forget what light was like.
I know, it's easy to forget that it's just the end of the day, not the end of you.
And if you'd let me walk with you, I'd tell you that it doesn't matter who you walk with, as long as you walk this road, well
[I wrote this just for you]

Work of a genius

"The Glassy Reflection"

If I'm loud, it's because I'm above the wave and if you can't hear me, it's because I'm under it. And I never want you to worry because the nature of a wave, is to pass. I'm not being quiet. I'm just under this wave

[I wrote this just for you]