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 depressed not being able to understand this void…
Something’s missing and hasn’t been there for so long….
‘I’m not understanding the way to decode the language of emptiness that fills up my inside and bit by bit he’s been developing the ability to dye the light into a deep darkness state of confusion and unsolicited surrender-ness’ he reflected
‘who are you?’
‘what do you want from
‘what are you trying to tell me?’
if only these messages were more authentic, logic and less demagogic ….as ….there’s no reason to reject the wonders of aliveness
Perfect is the image perceived by the spectators , fake is the one released by the naked truth, He thought
‘who do you want to see?’
‘the real me or the ‘what I could be’ me?’ he whispered
This path is the return one, there’s not one to come and one to go.
Longer shorter days giving me the chance to nourish the heart
Mundane experiences sealed as rubber stamps on my skin, intending to be part of the past, with unattained outcomes….
How to enjoy the deepness of this physicality when this indescribable ghosts don’t want to let go….
Is it my Ego mind boycotting my triumphs?…
or simply this incapacity to understand the void language
Trying to fully convince myself that the Universe is speaking to me through gnomic messages?
Maybe this is a new way of communicating I need to master to feed this thirsty whole of emptiness .
…..to be continued