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the light is red and tender
of the rising morning sun
colouring the trunk of the pine
into a column of fire
the meadow below is quietly receiving the day
the grass growing wild into a tenderness
no tended lawn can procure
a blackbird is looking for nourishment
the lizards are still asleep
as the first swift of the day announce
a subtle state
of harmony
the grace
of living
according to the pace
of tides
of shifting moons
of too many days
without a single drop
of rain
the grace
of observing
the pulse of the universe
echoing in the pulse
of the individual heart
when the collapse
one has always feared
is behind
there is nothing more
to fear
which does not necessarily make worries
disappear
but no longer allows
the smallest obstacle
to become insurmountable
just another task
to resolve
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
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
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
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
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
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
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