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by Stacey Mamasaid
Member since:
August 15, 2006

Children of Trees (Second Reflection)

January 30, 2011 04:37 PM UTC (Updated: February 13, 2011 12:11 PM UTC)
views: 0 | 12 people recommend this | comments: 30

Essence of life

Tiny and brave

Covering ground

Tossed in a wave.

 

Hang on for dear life

Add rings of time

Lost to the wind

Earth's mighty mime.

 

Solid in the center

Clad in chipped bark,

Bed for a ladybug,

Perch for a lark.

 

Layers of life

Brittle and soft

Children of trees

Lowly and aloft.

 

© Stacey Mamasaid January 2011 All Rights Reserved

 

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Legend of Svatopluk's Twigs (Slavic)

 

The legend of Svatopluk's twigs appeared in a fairy tale by the enlightened Byzantine emperor Constantine Porphyrogenitos around the 10th century.

 

It says that the powerful Great Moravian ruler Svatopluk asked his sons to come to him before his death. He gave a twig to each of them and asked them to break it. The young noblemen could easily do it. Then he asked them to tie together three twigs and asked the sons again to break them. This task appeared to be more difficult. Thus the king demonstrated how it is necessary to be united. That only the strength of a united kingdom guarantees the country its power and prosperity.

Great Moravia was divided among the three brothers in 894 in spite of their father's warning. The country, weakened by wars, was destroyed in 907 by a Hungarian attack.

Excerpt from Wikipedia

Sistahs, we can do this together!


*******************************************

“A word is a bud attempting to become a twig. How can one not dream while writing? It is the pen which dreams. The blank page gives the right to dream.”

-Gaston Bachelard

Thank you, Sistahs, for reminding me to dream.

“When a twig grows hard, it is difficult to twist it. Every beginning is weak.”

-Irish Proverb

We are all weak but growing tougher and more unstoppable everyday, Sistahs.

“I do not want to die...until I have faithfully made the most of my talent and cultivated the seed that was placed in me until the last small twig has grown.”

-Kathe Kollwitz

It ain't over until the thin lady sings, Sistahs :)

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Tree and stone glittered, without shadows.

My finger-length grew lucent as glass.

I started to bud like a March twig:

An arm and a leg, an arm, a leg.

From stone to cloud, so I ascended.

-Sylvia Plath



For your listening pleasure, here is the talented Cuong Vu Trio with “Brittle Like Twigs”...slide through the intro into some amazing trumpet playing: