Stranded on a sandbarStarfish in my hairSurfers singing "Mary Had A Little Lamb"And catching serious air On their surfboards, they swimIn the waves, they areAll that motion sicknessMakes me feel as if I'm in a car
How do I sayThat I need some underwearIn French, Or SpanishOr even.. in.. Amer Ican.I can.I can do anything that I wish to do. I just need inspiration from viewers like you.Thank you. THANK YOU.ROCK ON BOSTON.THIS IS AN INSPIRATIONAL POEM.Amen, Bhatta-lovers. Amen.
Birth and death are doors through which you pass from one dream to another. Someone is born on Earth in France as a powerful king, rules for a time, then dies. He maybe reborn in India, and travel in a bullock cart into the forest to meditate. He may next find rebirth in America as a successful businessman; and when he dreams death again, reincarnates perhaps in Tibet as a devotee of Buddha and spend his entire life in a lamasery. Therefore hate none and be attached to no nationality, for sometimes you are a Hindu, sometimes a Frenchman, sometimes an Englishman, or an American or a Tibetan. What is the difference? Each existence is a dream within a dream, is it not?
America is woven of many strands; I would recognize them and let it so remain. It's 'winner take nothing' that is the great truth of our country or of any country. Life is to be lived, not controlled; and humanity is won by continuing to play in face of certain defeat. Our fate is to become one, and yet many -- This in not prophecy, but description.
Cast your whole vote, not a strip of paper merely, but your whole influence. A minority is powerless while it conforms to the majority; it is not even a minority then; but it is irresistible when it clogs by its whole weight.
Leave it to the Indians to have meditated upon and figured out the laws of the Universe. Leave it to the Americans to either change those laws, have us escape into another Universe with different laws, or create that other Universe if it doesn't exist already !