basically
we all need a base
a place
where to feel
at home
in ourselves
a secret corner
of peace
to be
the beginning
and the end
of every wandering
and every wondering
of life
someone
being someone
can be of utmost satisfaction
generating hidden forces
into drive
but it does not necessarily mean
that one knows
how
to be
and being someone can
in certain circumstances
become an obstacle
for a soul
to be free
wildflowers
the dense smell of dry grass
revealing every wild flower
that has found its way
to grow in the meadow
after a while
there are choices to be made
not necessarily visible ones
not necessarily drastic ones
small changes
in choosing the direction of thoughts
whether they are to follow old patterns
or to be encouraged to trace
new trails
in areas of the mind
consciousness has never reached before
perhaps discovering wild flowers
that has been growing there
all along
undergoing
going under
can be
the rise
to another dimension
which is comfortable to know
but does not make it any more comfortable
to live
magpies are chasing a young fox
looking for peace in the sun
followed by a deer
showing her little one
to the world
while showing the world
to her little one
there is still much to unfold
bloom
blank
breakdown
brightening
the inner landscapes
under grey clouds
illuminating what was always there
waiting for the proper moment
to blossom
moonset
old patterns
falling apart
leaving the mind
naked
while the sun rises
and the moon sets
over what used to be
a familiar landscape
and has now has become
the unknown
pride
pride was shining bright
under the moonlight
distinct
in all its splendour
not to instigate shame
nor humiliation
just to let the seer see
what is to be seen
in order to correct
an inappropriate behaviour
gold
spinning golden lies
has nothing to do
with being truthful
no matter how
beautiful
they are
all they do
is spinning the heart into a prison
of our own making
manipulation
silent summer wind
whispering away in the top of the trees
telling old stories
in new forms
manipulated by man
into a tool of power
twisted by the limitations
of the sort of knowledge
that makes us believe
we know
stranger
full moon
behind grey clouds
strange birds singing
on foreign territories
as were they
at home
where being at home
as a stranger
is an accomplishment
in itself