Havent written in some time
maybe resisting to expose misleading thoughts to this perfect untamable water reflecting the moon.
Ego has been the reflection insisting to be heard
but the battle was won …. no space to be torn..
Nowhere to land, walking on sand knowing that lessons are one single point of light in the infinity width of the sky on a clear perfect summery night …
More layers or learning to walk better?
Strength or Surrender ness?
Adaptation or Resignation?
The more I live the less I understand
Wisdom is not clarity but the confusion of seeing too much and the capacity of accepting what is…
Getting older is knowing that life is unpredictable as the souls we get to encounter , as the unstable weather on a tropical
night where a storm welcomes the stars and the moon becomes a spark of bliss.
Maturity is awareness not aging;
getting older is an easy predictable process but not a synonym of inner growth.
How is it called when our space is in between when we are nor yellow nor green
when sadness is the space of comfort as no direction is bringing us purpose ?
how to choose a destination to feel alive and with determination?…..
So here I am writing again thinking aloud about life and its innermost turns of the soul as if they were able to give me clarity
to undiscovered disclosures of this unpredictable pathway back home.
So much pain so hard to explain
down here in the rain pretending He is vain
Where should He go what should he do…no matter what happens he still thinks of you.
Somewhere in the dessert where plants tend to die, he handles a flower, pretending to fly.
Faraway lands expecting arrivals of wisdom and canvas ready to be re-designed
This emptiness feels like a summer debris refusing to be , eternal bliss
what is to die, but to be only naked in our mind, not speaking aloud our truth to survive.
If only he could leave this space of hollowness fulfilling the gap with love and with trust, believing he must fly and shine like a star in the middle of the sky somewhere up high.
In love he is destroyed In love he is delighted no roof and no ground to feel this alive
As blessed as intrigued with sorrow and bliss
believing exists this heaven in his list.
The maze has no end but trouble and pain
Why should he stay when the rain is on its way
Why should he pray, when he only has today
as tomorrow is blossoming and yesterday is dead.
Still here half filled with empty thoughts.
Unclear what is needed to touch this puzzling soul in search of responses, where faith illuminates the unforeseen itinerary.
Victimized living, a memory…
Present life an illusion…
Future life amorphous by reality.
Shaken undestined heart by unattainable freedom,
Platonic eyesight of an utopianized tomorrow where decisions are made in the darkness of the night; the moment when worshipping the unknown is easier than standing firm on the ground.
Sunlight the following morning is coming, that’s no fallacy
and under the Sun reality is seen without a beauty mask.
Truth is brought by the sun, who bathes with light even the deepest secrets of the soul.
Clarity is nowhere to be found
but life is here and not going anywhere soon.
Mountain climb, and down the hill, cycle of life, is where seeing begins and re-inventing itself, it evolves in a path of confusion and blissfulness
When obscurity dominates, we may be found
we may be IN the center of the light.