The Beauty of a Deeper Meaning

On the Jukebox: "What I Need" by Katie Thompson
Quote: "There is a connection between heaven and earth. Finding that connection gives meaning to everything, including death. Losing that connection makes everything lose meaning, including life." ~ The Other Side of Heaven
Flair: Integrity

Sometimes it amazes me how the simple things that we take for granted have a deeper meaning. Most of the time I am too busy to pay attention to life rushing past me and lose the glimpse of something profound. I have long admired the works of William Wordsworth because he has captured in the language of men what we see and know with our hearts, but what our minds so often forget. As we take time to smell the roses, watch a sunrise, or let the wind through the trees sing to us, we are reconnected with the eternal truth that nature bears witness of: God is love and we are his most miraculous creation of all... and that makes us beautiful.

Excerpts from: INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD by W.Wordsworth 1886

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!

What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.

And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Forebode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquished one delight
To live beneath your more habitual sway.
I love the Brooks which down their channels fret,
Even more than when I tripped lightly as they;
The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
Is lovely yet;
The Clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.