Leaning back against the slope of the Great Freedom we often mistake it with a stone, a sign or a tree along the way. Standing
Leaning back against the slope of the Great Freedom we often mistake it with a stone, a sign or a tree along the way. Standing
Writing is difficult when you dip your quill in your own personal inkpot. Ideas get glued up and go lumpy. They end up tied in
On this very special eve A familiar, comfortable, remotely throbbing feeling Is letting myself melt into this place of Softly Sad. Like songs written in
This time, at the threshold of the night, heat was building up, Time was coming and everything was getting ready, Each piece had to find
Turn the fader now Press the time switch Take the words off the mix You’ll be at peace, for a moment … Yet knowing they
Could we jump off our ill-being
To the pure heart of Being ?
Reading, writing, no difference Reading is outer writing Writing is inner reading When I read other people’s words, those I lack, those I admire, or
Even when you get hit right in the heart by the stones of my words you keep embracing life In the puddle filled by a
beauty struckno warningknew it though icicle splitpipeline of lovethrough my chestbreath catchingvapors of tears words nakedfinallycontemplating simplicity endless nature harmony harmonydissonance vanishedliquid harmony smiling at hands clinging to
The sight of a tree On the brink of tears The sun blows A patch of light On the field of the heart Emotion of
The ego is against— More or less — everything. Opposing the world,To pose as a victim,On a quest for revengeOr re-screening eventsTo pass off as
Words are elaborate versions of ‘this’ and ‘that’. They’re pointers to our partial representation of reality. These tools have been subjectively selected through the various
Why is it more difficult to live the moment than it is to see yourself living it? Words come into play… Out of habit, mainly.