The reason for suffering


BlockquoteThe reason for suffering or continuing problems which tend to operate in repeating cycles, is the inability of the sufferer to let go and surrender.
To solve any problem one must understand that all human problems have no substance and that advice from a conscious being will be suffice- if acted upon.
A sufferer of any problem can only ‘solve’ the problem by seeking and acting on such advice or by surrendering completely to the point they realise they dont know the answer – within that moment of silence and complete surrender the answer will come.

This is ultimately the reason why it is much easier to advice others on how to solve their problems than on ones own problems.It is the difference between attachment and surrender.


Credits: Text:© justme; Image © CatrinPhoto; All rights reserved



Canvas of spirit

..and still the man continues in the throes of ignorance….the playground littered with forgotten potentials, blowing gently, dragging and grinding the surface of hope…. still the beholder, beholds… then time slows and slows and stops… within this moment the beholder intervenes and the canvas not of earth or wind but of spirit and memory, plays, displays, the forgotten moments of time, of man, of silence, of silly moments, once laughed, once passed, then stored and ignored… yet kept, once lost, then felt… mans own selfmade cross…

The angels seeing the beholder intervene, lift their veil, to the astonishment of man and that which was once so flippantly beheld, the spirit kneels and to mother and brother and friend bids itself farewell, in silence …adieu, adieu, adieu as the world watches the playground litter blow…..

Credits: writing © justme; Image © CatrinPhoto; All rights reserved

He prays

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You and I are One

Read by the author; Music: Lullaby for Cain (Sinead O'Connor)

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The cross

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By Justme

Scarlet red explodes then gently trickles descending the veined banks of weary clasping hands.
Clinging to his swollen throbbing feet.
Her mother tears drip and wash but cannot clean or clear the overflowing red
as his body drains upon her hands.
Smoothing skin stems the flow, to push life backwards, gently gentle for what life is left is precious still, to her, for him, her son.
A kneeling muddy mess, clotted hair bound by sweat and blood and tears.
Built upon a memory of her boy who became a man, not yet forty years.

A single tear, drops from him, to her.
A million years of love, with the fullness of a billion stars and space and time.
A woman cries to the heavens,
Universe, replace this woman, for this child of mine!

No voice returns the call, for heaven sleeps, while rivers roar
No hand of man or earth or heaven can sooth this daggered heart
Softly, simply the breeze of life licks her hair
Gently, easy, quietly, the soul of son slips the cross.
With crisscross sandals submerged within a muddy messy place.
She closed her eyes, this woman, this mother
And then an angel,
kissed her face.

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Credits: Poem © Justme; Images © Michaela (churchyard Niedersulz)