IS THERE ONE POEM THAT REALLY SPEAKS TO YOU, YOUR LIFE AND GIVES YOUR LIFE MEANING?

I think you'll love these!

In men whom men condemn as ill

I find so much of goodness still,

In men whom men pronounce divine

I find so much of sin and blot,

I do not dare to draw a line

Between the two, where God has not.

Joaquin Miller

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.

I want to know what you ache for,

And if you dare to dream of meeting

Your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are.

I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool

For love, for your dreams,

For the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.

I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow,

If you have been opened by life's betrayals,

Or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain,

Mine or your own,

Without moving

To hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy,

Mine or your own,

If you can dance with wildness

and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes

Without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic,

or to remember the limitations of being human.

I want to know if you can see beauty

Even when it is not pretty every day,

And if you can source your life

From God's presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure,

Yours and mine,

And still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon,

"Yes!"

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair,

Weary and bruised to the bone,

And do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will stand

In the center of the fire with me

And not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.

I want to know what sustains you

From the inside

When all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone

With yourself,

And if you truly like the company you keep

In the empty moments.

Oriah Mountain Dreamer

PP: Do you know why I pulled you over, Singer Ma'am?

S: No, Sir, Officer.

PP: Because of this:

The Second Coming

by William Butler Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again; but now I know

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

This is the poem for you,

Aothoured By Shivkumar Shivesh Shaktidivya

लिखती जाती प्रेम प्रतिग्या अनुरागी अधरो पर्

सदा प्रफुल्लित प्रमुदित होती मानस लह्ररो पर

प्रेयस के स्नेह सजल से

रूपम का रसपान करेगी

पाकर प्रियतम का आलिन्गन

सौरभ का मधुपान करेगी

आमन्त्रित पल मुखरित गीत सजते अधरो पर्

सदा प्रफुल्लित प्रमुदित होती मानस लहरो पर

आज स्रुजन के छ्न्द लिखेगी

वैभव का श्रन्गार करेगी

मन्गल कामना दीप रखेगी

साजन का मनुहार हरेगी

मेरी प्रतिभा शक्तिदिव्या अन्तस की नहरो पर

सदा प्रफुल्लित प्रमुदित होती मानस लह्ररो पर

शिवेश शक्तिदिव्या

I love poetry buy there aren't any that I would say gives my life meaning.

Nope, sorry. My life's meaning isn't derived from some bunch rhyming words.

no because i dont read poems