wisdom of the wise is a blog that looks into the questions that the wise raise and try to draw lessons from them. it is a blog that discusses the problems of our common human existence and the way forward. it is a blog for those who love wisdom .this blog gives you first hand inspirational talks to see you through your day. This blog basically features 4 article series which are: wisdom series, motivational series, rhapsody of thoughts, and nature speaks.

Monday 18 February 2013

POEM OF A WEEPING SOUL

Wisdom Series
Rhapsody of oswald




This is a poem whose words has been moulded by sad times. A poem in whose lines the very sad experiences of our today world has been conveyed. 

IT READS:

I LOOK TO THE PAST AND IT JUST SEEM LIKE YESTERDAY WHEN EVERYTHING LOOKED PERFECT.

I REMEMBER THE DAYS WHEN THE FIELD WAS GREEN

WHEN  BLUE LILIES AND THE RED ROSE FILLED THIS MOUNTAIN SIDE.

I REMEMBER HOW THE BUTTERFLIES USED TO FILL EVERY TERRAIN ON THIS MOUNTAIN SIDE

THOSE WERE THE GOOD OLD DAYS

THE DAYS WHEN MY BEAUTY WAS STILL WITH ME.

THE DAYS WHEN MY BELOVED WAS VERY CLOSE.

OH! HOW I WOULD GIVE ANYTHING TO GO BACK IN TIME TO THOSE YEARS.

LOOKING AT THE PRESENT, I JUST WONDER HOW EVERYTHING CHANGED ALL OF A SUDDEN.

HOW DID THE GREEN FIELDS BECOME A WASTE LAND ALL OF A SUDDEN?

WHEN DID THE MELODIOUS SONGS OF THE CITIES SUDDENLY CHANGE INTO WEEPING?

WHERE ARE ALL THE LILIES AND ROSES ON THIS MOUNTAIN SIDE?

WHERE DID ALL THE BUTTERFLIES GO?

OH! HOW IS IT THAT MY PLAY GROUND SUDDENLY BECAME COVERED IN THE BLOOD OF MY LOVED ONES?

DEATH! OH DEATH!! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO TAKE MY TREASURE AWAY FROM ME?

WHY DID YOU HAVE TO TAKE AWAY FROM ME THE ONLY BLANKET WITH WHICH I KEEP WARM IN THE COLD DARK NIGHTS OH DEATH?!

GRAVE! OH GRAVE!! WHY MUST IT BE THE SOUL OF MY BELOVED THAT YOU HAVE TO USE TO QUENCH YOUR HUNGER AND THIRST?

HADES! OH HADES!! WHY MUST YOU SWALLOW A LIVE RAM EVEN WHEN YOU ARE FED WITH MEAT FROM THE SLAUGHTER HOUSE?

BUT IN ALL I AM STILL COMFORTED

I AM COMFORTED BECAUSE THE MASTER OF THE SYSTEM SAID TO ME : "TAKE HEART CHILD".

IN MY DARKEST HOUR DID THE MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH SAY TO ME ; " A LITTLE LONGER CHILD, HOLD ON A LITTLE LONGER FOR THE DAWN OF A NEW DAY IS JUST A MOMENT AWAY AND WHEN THE DAY IS COME, YOU SHALL EXPERIENCE A BEAUTY THAT WILL LAST FOREVER".

TAKE THIS MESSAGE TO MY BELOVED

TO MY BEAUTY OH SAY THIS TO WHOEVER YOU ARE GOING FROM THE SLAUGHTER HOUSE TO THE STOMACH OF HADES ITSELF!

TELL MY BEAUTY THAT I SAID ; " A LITTLE LONGER DEAREST, HOLD ON A LITTLE LONGER.  FOR THE MASTER SAYS THAT THE DAWN OF A NEW DAY IS JUST A MOMENT AWAY AND WHEN THE DAY IS FINALLY COME, WE SHALL BEHOLD THE BEAUTIFUL DAYS AGAIN. WE SHALL HOLD HANDS AND PLAY IN THE GREEN FIELDS AS WE USED TO. HOLD ON A LITTLE LONGER TILL WE MEET TO PART NO MORE".


In loving Memories of:
  • All the faithful departed who has been a victim of war, famine , natural disasters, and random violence all around the world
  • Th dead and gone of Syria.
  • Late REGINA JEJE , Late FAVOUR NESIMEYE, Late TEMITOPE, Late IGHOLIN, Late BRIDGET.
         (R.I.P) REST IN PEACE BELOVED TILL WE MEET TO PART NO MORE.


    Thanks,
NESIMEYE  I. OSWALD

Sunday 10 February 2013

SYRIA CRISIS - Reflection of a 14 yr- old syrian girl





wisdom series


Reflection of a 14 yr- old syrian girl
Cayanne, a 14-yr old girl from syria speaks about what haunts her and how war has changed her life.
Article source : CNN

One year, 365 days and an endless number of seconds, transformed my life 360 degrees, made it go from color to black-and-white, turned laughter into tears.
I now no longer perceive the world as a 14-year-old innocent girl who takes everything for granted, more as a victim of a terrible experience that'll never fade away, always reminding me of what others go through and a memory that will forever stay with me.
Before the revolution, I remember how, on cold winter nights we would sit together as a family, around the crackling fire sipping hot chocolate. I remember the smoke from the fireplace, wafting upward, leaving a scent of burning wood in the air. I remember looking into my sister's eyes and that glimmer they always had, the smiles my parents would share.
I remember how I used to love breaking the silence of the moment by rushing into my father's lap, tracing the narrow path of velvet veins on his hand, as I enthusiastically told him about my day at school, my second home and my friends, my second family.
We don't live those days anymore. Now no one's eyes can lie, and the only sound I can hear is the screaming of sorrow.
March 23, 2011 was the first day I saw a demonstration in Syria. I was driving to a friend's birthday party, through streets that were packed with people carrying flags and calling out chants in support of the regime.
I was oblivious to my surroundings, I didn't know what was going on. I thought it was just a demonstration that would blow over.
"Barely any one is coming! Their parents are too scared to send them because of what's happening," my friend cried when she saw me. I looked into her eyes and saw the tears slowly forming and streaming down her red cheeks, streaking her dark make-up.
As weeks passed by it kept getting worse. One day I jumped out of bed to the sound of something loud shattering the windows of my room. Breathless, I got up too quickly, barely noticing the glass sparkling on my dull rug. I ran but came to a sudden halt as I felt my head spinning and my vision darkening.
My mom was crying and hugging my sister tightly. "A bomb hit an area nearby," my mother stuttered, switching through the different news channels while trying to block us from seeing it.
I managed to get a glimpse of it, on the TV, something I wish I had never seen. I remember my eyes feeling assaulted by the brightness on the screen, a sight that haunts me every night; dead bodies, bits of human flesh, were spread out like dispersed glass.
I closed my eyes and opened them again, hoping I would go back to the life I was used to, where unicorns and rainbows existed along with Prince Charmings and forever afters.
Unfortunately now, the dark days, and the nightmares take place on a regular basis, devastating my country and reluctant as I am to let it in, taking over my life, and controlling my mind.
From then on the world changed for me. Instead of learning it slowly through experience it was taught to me harshly through the sound of gunshots and bombardments. I discovered how cruel life can be, and how in one second a smile can turn into a tear, peace into war, a friend into an enemy and life into death.
I lived in a blur, not knowing what had happened or what I was to do.
I woke up every morning to the sound of gunshots, bombs or the roaring helicopters accompanied by the sad news of the death or kidnapping of someone we knew.
"I learned that though mom may be older, taller and more experienced, deep down she needs me just as much as I need her."
-----Cayanne
Some evenings, I hid under my blankets, covered my ears, and thought of the past trying to feel safe again.
I silently peeked out my window to continuously stare at the moon in its different forms casting a dim light, to stare at the sky and the stars emerge taking their place in the night. The image drawing me further and further from reality, into the life I yearned to go back to.
My parents tried to stay strong teaching us to do the same, until one night it all fell apart. I was sitting in my room, the place I hadn't left for a long time, talking to my friend about our memories, and suddenly, I hear a cry, whispers, the sound of my mother's sobs, then her yelling. "I'm going out to find him!"
My family has its own business and my father was late coming back home, not answering his phone.
"But it's too dangerous!" my aunt screamed back at my mother. "I don't care!" my mother shouted back.
I ran down the spiraling staircase terrified, afraid of what was happening. Everything went black, like a starless night. I felt like the walls of the house were closing in, suffocating me.
The background noise was blocked out and all I could do was stand and stare in dismay at my mom in this state for the first time. She lay on the stone courtyard just outside our front door, crying, holding her phone with a shivering hand dialing my dad's number like her life depended on it.
Everything stopped. It was like someone pressed the pause button in a movie, and now the seconds felt like hours. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart screaming over my mom's voice.
I don't know how long we waited, or how fast my heart was beating, but when my dad's car turned the corner, I gave everything I had left to run and hug him tighter than ever.
"I get angry when other people my age complain about their life, about the silliest things.''
----Cayanne
At that moment my senses returned and I realized how cold the ground was under my bare feet. I carried my mom inside, and from that day on I learned that though she may be older, taller and more experienced, deep down she needs me just as much as I need her.
Now, the one thing I looked forward to was waking up every morning and creeping into my parents' bedroom to look at my dad's thin and frail face making sure he had made it in safe the night before.
In school, only half my class was left. "At least we have each other," said one of my five best friends with a comforting smile.
However that didn't last for long.
Devastating news kept coming at us, beginning with the death of my friend's uncle. "In one second I lost my uncle; a part of me," she whispered in a heartbreaking tone.
I looked at her hopelessly, trying to comfort her, but I knew no words could bring him back. Every morning for one month, no words were spoken by anyone besides the ones of regret.
"If we knew this was coming, we would have done things so differently," we would tell each other.
We wouldn't have taken so much for granted, we would have appreciated what we had. Instead it was ripped away.
Grades dropped, smiles faded, students left, and all that remained were the memories that we would safely lock away.
As my dad protectively drove us to and from school, the only places we could go to, I noticed the row of soldiers on the streets. They reminded me of domino pieces. Their presence radiated darkness.
Each one had a solemn appearance, frightening eyes that looked right through you below their crunched frown. However, what always caught my eye were their large guns, the color of the dark pine trees they leaned on.
I went from looking at colorful flowers and singing birds every morning, to dark killer weapons.
April 5, 2012 was my last day of school. My parents decided to move us all to Lebanon. I had known it was coming all along. It wasn't a surprise. Everyone was moving.
I sank in my seat that day at school, buried my head into my hands and cried like I did every day.
I remembered how when I heard the news about Egypt and the violence in Tahrir Square and thinking to myself that I was far from harm's way. Now I was considering how hard it would be to move away from my home, my dad, my friends and family -- not knowing anyone or anything, possibly never being able to contact them because of the broken phone lines.
My mind wandered back to 10 years ago when I first stepped foot into the school, only worrying about things like my friendship bracelets, and now I was expected to leave everything I ever knew behind. The people who knew me inside and out, who had carved a place in my heart.
Memories flashed accompanied by more tears as my friends gathered around me and I opened my swollen eyes trying to picture the scene hoping it would last forever.
I am angry and I feel hatred to the people that are ruining my country, anyone who is holding a gun and shooting no matter which side they're on. Those who stole my childhood and that of so many others.
My dream was to apply to universities with my friends as well as cry tears of joy when we threw our graduation hats in the air. Now that was crushed to pieces. One part of me, knows that this isn't good bye, and that no matter where this crazy world takes us when the time is right we will return.
Another part of me is scared that more people will die, even if they are not close to me. Everyone has a family, friends and they suffering. I am scared that I will lose the hope that I now have about being able to return, and being left with nothing but memories.


 Watch the video of the conversation with cayanne here: http://cnn.com/video/#/video/world/2013/01/28/natpkg-lebanon-aleppo-girl.cnn

Mathew 24:6-8
6 And ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars: see that ye be not troubled: for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet.
 7 For nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom: and there shall be famines, and pestilences, and earthquakes, in divers places.
 8 All these are the beginning of sorrows.