Post by spiral on Feb 9, 2014 14:48:03 GMT
Hi im Spiral, my name is Chris and i am from wales and been into spirituality since i took art and music serious, looking back art is my most endured skill and have always loved music, my dad always played rock from 70's and 80's like journey and toto, phill collins, meat loaf 
i never knew what those songs mean and still dont, but they express alot, and the sounds are full of energy, while i was looking through Welsh poems, i read this poem that really means alot to me, especially the part about music and being wrapped up by sounds
In Passing by Brian Harris
To be born in Wales,
Not with a silver spoon in your mouth,
But, with music in your blood
And with poetry in your soul,
Is a privilege indeed.
Your inheritance is a land of Legend,
Of love and contrast.
A land of beauty so bright it burns the eyes.
Of ugliness that scars the Spirit
As the Earth.
Wales is an old land with wounds
That weep in hills.
They wept before in the bodies of men
And in the hearts of women
And time will never heal them.
The stigmata of sorrow,
Of pain and poverty,
Of lonely crucifixion in the dark,
Remain our lives to feed.
This Land of our Fathers was built on coal.
Its rivers of mingled blood and sweat
Have forever darkened it,
Relieved only by death.
We are a sad people.
Our sadness being wrapped in harps and music
And praise to God,
For the lovely, yearning light
That feeds the Spirit as well as the eyes.
Love and Light
Spiral
i never knew what those songs mean and still dont, but they express alot, and the sounds are full of energy, while i was looking through Welsh poems, i read this poem that really means alot to me, especially the part about music and being wrapped up by sounds
In Passing by Brian Harris
To be born in Wales,
Not with a silver spoon in your mouth,
But, with music in your blood
And with poetry in your soul,
Is a privilege indeed.
Your inheritance is a land of Legend,
Of love and contrast.
A land of beauty so bright it burns the eyes.
Of ugliness that scars the Spirit
As the Earth.
Wales is an old land with wounds
That weep in hills.
They wept before in the bodies of men
And in the hearts of women
And time will never heal them.
The stigmata of sorrow,
Of pain and poverty,
Of lonely crucifixion in the dark,
Remain our lives to feed.
This Land of our Fathers was built on coal.
Its rivers of mingled blood and sweat
Have forever darkened it,
Relieved only by death.
We are a sad people.
Our sadness being wrapped in harps and music
And praise to God,
For the lovely, yearning light
That feeds the Spirit as well as the eyes.
Love and Light
Spiral
