‘Dreams’ are filled with encounters from previous existences,Those we know perfectly well that we know, without knowing where we know them from.Those who remember us
‘Dreams’ are filled with encounters from previous existences,Those we know perfectly well that we know, without knowing where we know them from.Those who remember us
The similarities are sometimes such that it becomes difficult to speak of a difference between two practices. We will then prefer to emphasize the identity,
One of them, caughtBetween my fingers, staredFor what it is. They’re all out at nightPassing through my inner skyAll different in speed, shape and brightnessBut
Identity is frothThose bubbles hypnotizeThe eyes of our being. They sparkle, fizzle,Agglutinate and burst. Wide, tranquil, emergency-freeThe heart-ocean does not change a thingTo its peaceful