When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born;
With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devil's walking parody
On all four-footed things.
The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.
Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.
Here are some questions on how we see our human burdens and if one of the questions is more important and relevant to your own view, please share it with us:
Shakespeare has graced us with this wisdom: "By any other name, a rose is still a rose" can we then say, a burden by any other name is still a burden?
What are the names of our burdens? Do I forget to name my burden?
Do I name my burden by another name so it won't appear to be a burden?
How can a heavy burden sanctify me?
Could a heavy burden crush my spirit?