Today is World Cancer Day. I am dedicating my painting with a quote by ‘Richard Bach’ to World Cancer Day. I could not find a better quote to explain the meaning of my painting.
‘Cancer’ is not just a word but a leading cause of death worldwide. World Cancer Day is dedicated to the cause of awareness of cancer and its prevention, detection and treatment.
A good diet and exercise to maintain a healthy lifestyle is the key to prevention. I am not writing to workout 4 hours a day (like me) but few minutes of yoga and walk can be helpful.
Do yourself a favour and google what all you can do today to spread awareness around ‘Cancer’. An email, a scrap on FB or Orkut can make a difference. I just did my job by blogging for all my readersJ
I pray all those who suffer from Cancer get better and join their families soon.
I am posting a poem for all of us written by Emily Bronte. The poet is very clear that life should not be surrendered to the word ‘hope’. To an extent, I agree as ‘God help those who help themselves’.
Hope by Emily Bronte
Hope was but a timid friend;
She sat without the grated den,
Watching how my fate would tend,
Even as selfish-hearted men.
She was cruel in her fear;
Through the bars, one dreary day,
I looked out to see her there,
And she turned her face away!
Like a false guard, false watch keeping,
Still, in strife, she whispered peace;
She would sing while I was weeping;
If I listened, she would cease.
False she was, and unrelenting;
When my last joys strewed the ground,
Even Sorrow saw, repenting,
Those sad relics scattered round;
Hope, whose whisper would have given
Balm to all my frenzied pain,
Stretched her wings, and soared to heaven,
Went, and ne'er returned again!
She sat without the grated den,
Watching how my fate would tend,
Even as selfish-hearted men.
She was cruel in her fear;
Through the bars, one dreary day,
I looked out to see her there,
And she turned her face away!
Like a false guard, false watch keeping,
Still, in strife, she whispered peace;
She would sing while I was weeping;
If I listened, she would cease.
False she was, and unrelenting;
When my last joys strewed the ground,
Even Sorrow saw, repenting,
Those sad relics scattered round;
Hope, whose whisper would have given
Balm to all my frenzied pain,
Stretched her wings, and soared to heaven,
Went, and ne'er returned again!
