swifts are announcing
that summer is almost here
the song of the birds
is no longer eager
but confidently celebrating
the beauty of being
alive
injustice
even the slightest injustice
can change the shape of a heart
cripple a destiny
keeping a mind distanced
from its true potential
it is not as much
the injustice that stigmatises the mind
as it is the responsibility for it
being pushed on to the victim
for the executor to wash hands
depriving everyone implied
from the grace of forgiving
a gentle wind is playing with the leaves
small clouds in luminous colours
drifting
maybe time has come
regardless
to recognise innocence
where innocence is
and step into
forgiveness
entering
there are days
where it is somewhat difficult
to find the entrance
into the moment
where clouds are weighing on the mind
perhaps for no distinguished reason
where gravity is weighing in the body
which just a moment ago
seemed able to fly
even those days
carry a hidden beauty within
if one have the indulgence
to let it surface
suppleness
haunted dreams
and clouds covering the sky
after what had began to be considered
endless days of sunshine
one should never settle
for a single state of mind
but always maintain the suppleness
to receive whatever comes
and a certain state of stability
might occur
even on new moon
recurrence
silent repetition
of old thoughts
following their rut
without raising the eyes
to the sky
where birds glide
on the buoyancy of air
circling in perspectives
of freedom
northward
golden morning light
falling generously in through
the northward windows
revealing cobwebs
and inner drives
that has not necessarily been recognised
as such
the desire to be
someone
as if being
was not enough
golden morning light
falling generously in through
the northward windows
reminding
that there is nothing shameful
in delight
remembering
the length of the night
is approaching its minimum
and the green of the world
is dense
the flush of spring
settling into a state
of fulfilment
if only we remember
to release the sensation
of being important
in the unfolding
of the true potential
and let the true potential
be
relapse
falling back
into old patterns
without even being aware
before their consequences are
weaving around the heart
veiling the sight
numbing the senses
exploding the mind
to fragments
stealing back
the transparency
of wholeness
view
to see the world
in a new light
no longer clinging to
what was
and never became
profound sleeps
erasing memories
every night
to let every new day
be
with all the deceptions
and all the joys
that belongs to proper
being
falling
joy
like a quiet brook
gently falling
contouring every obstacle on its way
to the eternal ocean
of love