Sympathy Quotes

The parable made flesh
The words given meaning
In the person of the repentant Saul
The one who was found
Who received mercy
From the Son, while yet he was
Persecuting him, his believers,
A lost coin found on the road,
Cleaned and carried close to the vest
A coin of great value,
Well worth the sacrifice
The special effort
One coin to find.

(Poem By Raymond A.  Foss)

We are each a precious member
The flock of the shepherd,
One who knows the Master’s voice
Who comes when called
When we are lost, the Shepherd
Seeks us out, finds us, as we are
Carries us, lovingly, back into the fold
Back to the flock, to the safety
The nurturing, the growing
Within the community
Fellow members, fellow followers
At great cost, the shepherd
Leaves the flock
To save one lost sheep

(Poem By Raymond A. Foss)

A world turned upside down
searching high and low, for one lost sheep,
for one lost coin, leaving others
to chance, to the wilderness
consuming energy, to find one
when others are in hand
Searching endlessly for the one
the one who needs to be found
saved from their lost state
brought home, into the flock,
into the fold once more

(Poem By Raymond A. Foss)

Your fields are empty now.
Only your ghosts dance
while cranes of another kind
dance cities into being.

All that remain of you are
a fading crackle of your energy
and some grainy video footage
that people in the new cities

will watch to marvel
at the wonders the world

Well, I have lost you and I lost you fairly;
In my own way, and with my full consent.
Say what you will, kings in a tumbrel rarely
Went to their deaths more proud than this one went.
Some nights of apprehension and hot weeping
I will confess; but that’s permitted me;
Day dried my eyes; I was not one for keeping
Rubbed in a cage a wing that would be free.
If I had loved you less or played you slyly
I might have held you for a summer more,
But at the cost of words I value highly,
And no such summer as the one before.
Should I outlive this anguish—and men do—
I shall have only good to say of you.

(Poem By Edna St. Vincent Millay)

Spatial depths of being survive
The birth to death recurrences
Of feet dancing on earth of sand;
Vibrations of the dance survive
The sand; the sand, elect, survives
The dancer. He can find no source
Of magic adequate to bind
The sand upon his feet, his feet
Upon his dance, his dance upon
The diamond body of his being.

(Poem By Jean Toomer)