The contemporary world persists in muddying the waters of the soul and maintaining them troubled.Thus, our being is kept away from his deep aspirationsand condemned
The contemporary world persists in muddying the waters of the soul and maintaining them troubled.Thus, our being is kept away from his deep aspirationsand condemned
When the energy of life falls down the bottom of the vase,When all passions,tired of being only copies of copies of copies, finally quiet,All that
It wasn’t really me, was it ?What can I do if the emergence process has been initiated ? And along with it, the explosion into
The completeness that we fantasize about when we meet again and contemplate our young years, does not exist in the past.It only exists in the
In the torments of life, those with which it never fails to sprinkle our daily lives,How easy it is to lose sight of the essential
You’re blowing the squalls of magnetic particles,they infiltrate my mind, steal me from the presentthey flatten my inner landscapes to the boardwhere the absence of
Poetry,The poetic mind,Can also be a sensibility which ends up penning the poet in spiritual drowsiness.From that point, the poetically inclined mind will dig to
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
solitude de l’homme sans papier ni crayon où aller épancher sa peine à vivre ici ? chaque feuille est buvard Pour la tristesse d’encre vider