A Psalm of Life

A poem to start the journey

Welcome to Cities in Ashes—a place where the human spirit is celebrated 24/7.

For over 100,000 years, humans have thrived on this pale blue dot and have done so with flourish. We’ve survived an Ice Age, global disasters, and even human-made nightmares. We’ve conquered every inch of the globe by means of peace and war, and now we set out to conquer the very cosmos our planet was born from.

Over the course of our history, we’ve been saints and we’ve been devils. Humans may be creatures of destruction and hate, but we are also beings of creation and love. We are light and darkness, neither perfect nor incapable of growth.

In the short time we have on this Earth, we have the power to do many wondrous things. Many people have a difficult time realizing this, and instead wander through their lives feeling lost, bitter, and hopeless. At Cities in Ashes, I hope to inspire those who come across the articles laid out here. The articles here may criticize. They may take strong stances on different issues and topics. But, ultimately, the pieces you will find here are written to find solutions and provide hope for the future.

To inaugurate this publication, I would like to present to you all a most powerful and beautiful poem: A Psalm of Life by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. This poem—which has a very special place in my heart—is about purpose and resilience, and finding beauty in this strange and mystical realm we call Life.

Enjoy.

A Psalm of Life by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

What The Heart Of The Young Man Said To The Psalmist.

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
   Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
   And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
   And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
   Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
   Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
   Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
   And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
   Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,
   In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
   Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
   Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,— act in the living Present!
   Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
   We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
   Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
   Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
   Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
   With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
   Learn to labor and to wait.