Sunshine, begone, I will have no more of thee.

Sunshine, begone.

Sunshine, please yield your bright light,

Imposing fraudulent joy onto the sky;

Laughing at your own reflecting shine,

Denying the weeping of our burning eyes.



I miss the clouds. Today would be a great day for overcasted skies. I find such solace in the writings of Alfred Lord Tennyson. I’ve been reading through a collection of Tennyson’s best work that was published in 1893. How much things change, and how much they stay they truly do stay the same.

Reading these beautiful poems written over a century ago I’m finding that the evolution of mankind allows for the soul to still be in some way, timeless. There is a comfort in knowing that mankind has always known the same feeling of sorrow. and joy.  That the soul has always carried a heart that longs in hunger and a mind that seeks answer to its’ own wonders.

Song: A Spirit Haunts by Alfred Lord Tennyson (an excerpt)

My very heart faints and my whole soul grieves At the moist rich smell of the rotting leaves, And the breath Of the fading edges of box beneath, And the year’s last rose. Heavily hangs the broad sunflower Over its grave i’ the earth so chilly; Heavily hangs the hollyhock, Heavily hangs the tiger-lily.


This song is one of the many beautiful little ditties by

Jonah Montranga.


“Fathers and daughters, mothers and sons.

What came before and what will go on?

The memory of the night, the question of dawn,

In some little way one saves the next.”


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