The gentle winds of grace are blowing

Spring crocuses are crowned with winter's snow



Snow clad crocuses in Tacoma.

Poor spring crocuses,

They don’t know what to do.

Should they grow or should they wait?

Can they bloom another date?


It’s been a winter long and cool,

But springtime flowers will not wait.

Never mind the snow and hail,

It’s time to burst out nature’s gate!


So here we come, you snow clad clime.

Defy we you, so stand aside!

Colors bright and cheery come,

To bloom amidst a sea of green.


Springtime glory’s on its way,

So let us not procrastinate.

Set not aside our Naw Rúz fete,

Let floral glory spring in time!

– the Webmaster


 O ye loved ones of God! The wine-cup of Heaven overfloweth, the banquet of God’s Covenant is bright with festive lights, the dawn of all bestowals is breaking, the gentle winds of grace are blowing, and out of the invisible world come good tidings of bounties and gifts. In flower-spangled meadows hath the divine springtime pitched its tents, and the spiritual are inhaling sweet scents from the Sheba of the spirit, carried their way by the east wind. Now doth the mystic nightingale carol its odes, and buds of inner meaning are bursting into blossoms delicate and fair. The field larks are become the festival’s musicians, and lifting wondrous voices they cry and sing to the melodies of the Company on high, ‘Blessed are ye! Glad Tidings! Glad Tidings!’ And they urge on the revellers of the Abha Paradise to drink their fill, and they eloquently hold forth upon the celestial tree, and utter their sacred cries. All this, that withered souls who tread the desert of the heedless, and faded ones lost in the sands of unconcern, may come to throbbing life again, and present themselves at the feasts and revels of the Lord God.










Post a Comment