to put the burdens of the day and rest the back on a tapestry of ropes - close your eyes and see.

the sky's blue is a refraction. the heavy colo(u)rs of light admits only a few at a time. but the green of leaves and shoots tells us of another life.

breathe that long sigh (and say whoooo...) and the Absent with unconditional hope may appear. as one who asks, be true in that. of what use is a hasty desire when the wanted life is already seeking.

feel yourself empty, unfettered. do you rise or enter?

great is the uncertainty when the sky loses its light. the oncoming night is a season which only the ones who know to love properly welcome.

the hours go like a loss, and not even the world is enough for the one who opposes the turn. but the door of acceptance is open. wanting the sun in the middle of the night is resisting what has to pass; honestly, there is only mere feeling around in that. the stars and moon watch over like silent signs. until you reach the full curve of meaning. and so you change what you want.

you cradle your head and sit upon a hill, looking up. you sulk but try not to get caught. you try to cover up all manner of resistance of what's to be. if someone were to cry, 'insolence!' and point at you, you would react and hide the fact that you know the claim is true.

you try to manage your self this way, not really understanding if it has worked for you. you put up an idea of whatever self-image you think displays you in this dark world. later on, you wonder why no one sees your light.

the hours again conspire with long moments that eat up the shadows that have become those suggestive companions. maybe what you need are friends.

it becomes close now. something opens up. you are like a centre with white petals; some love you, some love you not. while others mistake those as feathers. you are not-other-than the angels that people speak of, the devil of the night; not-other-than the world and those companions that urge you to fight.

and as the morning appears, you see the face of the sun. it is like the drawing you used to do, with all the rays around the centre. each ray is a name. so that each brings you to the essence of that light.

the navigation of bodies romances like a spinning dancer. though many turn and move, from a high point of view, it is singular.

but here on earth, only colo(u)r changes between the dark and the light. how we are kept veiled being tied to this lonely world. so there is variety in these two parts.

recite and ascend!

the clouds roll by, showing how to float. the sky is only a previewing backdrop for the journey's end. the spirits know the ways to soar. it knows this like it knows its beloved.

be not weary for the sun as it disappears into the horizon. the waters are sweeter there - untainted by salt.

some joys are better explained in silence.

                                               +++

blank faces, blank pages...

...watch the sun as it goes down and the moon replaces it in the overview. the chilled winds have come to bring their message. a repertoire of dreams is something which books do not see beyond. a timeless conversation takes place unlike the conventional.

closed eyes bring lightning to the fore. this relays insights.

glimpses of dawn tears a path of the one who walks upon the light that leads toward it. and it is only a matter of time before the move takes place. for it is an appointed time and place of meeting.

and then those words will be said.

                                         ***

the advice of interaction is but three.

in these times of information spattering, do not fling yourselves on what people say. verify the facts before carrying it along with you like a saddle. the knowledge that you bring is enough of a companion on the road. learn to properly put your trust. or where. praise and blame should be the same to you.

show forgiveness, be patient and turn away from the foolish.  

last night the winds came in a boomerang twist and the sky was bright.

the rain brought inside a soul which sought for help with a tiny cry. the towel wrapped around it, the soul feared when it was in fact, care. it chose not to sit on cushions but instead, a cardboard box. the kitten licked itself dry, shivering a little from fear and the cold. the kitten walked out as soon as it was a little drier. the other soul stood at the front door watching it leave.

the hand pulled back from helping and held its own heart from despair. i may not be able to turn night into day, or bring the sun out when it is raining. but i can ask.

                                           ***

the days are approaching and though he has seen it many times before, he knows he is unsure how it will come about.  

someone comes closer and asks: 'what if i believe something that is not what the common believe? i mean, beyond what the people i know and who's in my surrounding believe...?'

"...or rather, understand. you know, we've been taught not to say 'listen to me, and i'll listen' or 'let us exchange thoughts' but rather to say 'make us understand'. so please understand what you believe, dear friend. understand yourself and the way to get to what you believe in."

'i want to know. tell me how to do this.'

there is a pause; a searching for quietness to offer/receive a sign. "there is a time before dawn - when everything is quiet, most are asleep. face yourself towards that. truly ask and say, 'make me understand' if you wish.".

silence.

"do this with all your heart."

what he can be sure about is what is revealed to him.