nannaland.dk

when the inner light grows stronger

thanks to the darkness closing in around

profound healing of invisible wounds

can occur

steady rain

washing away

sadness

nourishing dreams

of flowering meadows

and soft summer winds

caressing the grass

just looking out

into the dark pouring rain

where even the naked trees

are invisible

how should one know

that light is to return

heat to unfold the deepest potential of every seed

the miracle is

that it does happen

every year

with or without knowledge

with or without belief

silence

just silence

while counting the moments of the day

where darkness has retracted

nourishing the trust in what is not yet

to be seen

only running underneath

as an invisible stream

of faith

the crescent of the moon appeared swiftly

in between layers of transparent clouds

while the world is sleeping

in no rush to escape darkness

just waiting for it

to pass

light is shifting

growing slowly again

towards illumination and transparency

towards joy and laughter

towards long evenings

and sleepless nights

cascades of light

is flooding consciousness

while the shift outside

is barely noticeable

but still there

as an invisible opening

towards eternity

endless rain

with what seem endless tears

and yet

just as the rain

at some point will hold in again

even the source of what seems

endless tears

will run dry

who taught us, it is a bad thing to cry

there is nothing more relieving

nothing more liberating

nothing more purifying

than to release the sorrow

which is otherwise dammed up inside

and just as rain is needed for crops to grow

just the same way

tears are needed for love to flourish

awakening into fury

is not necessarily the most peaceful way

to begin the day

even if

the world around is perfectly peaceful

tender moonlight falling generously in through the windows

silent stars twinkling through the dark

awakening into fury

is a state to be handled with utmost care

unless we wish fury to rule

our day

a single bird

singing in the night

on an hour

where usually

no birds of its kind

makes any sound

singing as if to announce spring

whereas the shortest day of the year

is still ahead

not far away

but still ahead

as if to remind

in the most elegant manner

that even in the darkest of winter

hope is not to be lost

interrupted sleep

and a torn heart

drowned in a body

with despair woven into every fibre of it

a night bird calling through stilled darkness

where not even a wind

seems to move

as if the entire world was holding breath

awaiting dawn

silence

in this particular blessed way it is to be perceived

when human activity

is at rest

when the eye gets used to darkness

and begin to distinguish what is hidden there

a whole different world unfold

a world of forms and sounds

where the superficial aspect of the item

has lost its power

where all

that is normally considered glamorous

can no longer be seen

but in the world of forms and sounds

the true content of every aspect

is possible to be perceived

by the eye which dares to see

and the ear

which dares to listen

only one single thin layer

like a veil of a cloud

on the sky

otherwise generously illuminated

by the shine of the moon

a certain mildness in the air

and the wind whispering just to remind us

it is still there

only one single thin layer

like a veil of a cloud

is enough to disturb the surface of the soul

creating riddles

where insight is longed for

and yet these veils are never to be seen

as anything else than a tender protection

against the light

our hearts are not yet purified to reflect