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confusion
and steady rain
a mess of dreams
opening spots in the memory
one would rather have been without
confirming
that different layers are being reached
the solitary bird
is there again
singing
with a somehow poignant enthusiasm
reminding
that hope is never to be
abandoned
the landscape is illuminated
by flames of golden trees
the mornings covered
in light mist
the sun enlightening it all
into luminous beauty
where darkness in various shapes and forms
seems to unfold
reminding
that light is not a right to be claimed
light is for man
to choose
over and over again
a structure of bad habits
is still a structure
but not necessarily the one
one wish to neither lean
nor be dependent on
a structure of bad habits is like a cobweb
freedom for the spider
and prison for the butterfly
behaving like a spider
when one is a butterfly
is suicidal
and who knows
perhaps the essence of the butterfly is
complete absence of structure
perhaps this complete absence of structure
is essential for the butterfly
just as the cobweb is
essential for the spider
it is not about being right
but about being true
to oneself
anticipation
for the unknown
as a guideline
into joy
silence can be a way
to bypass
hypocrisy
to avoid dissimulation
to keep the lies
at bay
silence can be
the delicate answer
to an impossible question
and suddenly the cry of an owl
might tear the depths of the night
open
for light to shine bright
golden light
falling low
illuminating areas of the underwood
where sun has not been able to penetrate
all through the summer
mushrooms are still to be found
despite the drought
but only for the initiated
whose patience has proved valuable
through other means
long ago
not everything is available
for everyone
but something is available
for everybody
leaving behind
is a graceful act
of forgiveness
but leaving behind is not possible until
peace has been made
with every detail of what happened
though once it is done
and the past is being left
with the past
nothing can ever again
push those old wounds open
and that is where
freedom begins
a sole bird is singing
celebration
in the night
as if it knew
today is a special day
where an angel was born
to bring light
crossing the threshold
to the cathedral of the soul
for the first time
in full consciousness
is indeed
a deed
of mystical dimension
being judgmental
does note only concern
the others
even if one tend to believe
it is the others
one judge
being judgmental
builds a wall of loneliness
around the heart
a no man’s land
where nothing can grow
nothing penetrate
and the one who is suffering the most
is the one who is being
judgmental