The wind blows free

I wish three times,

Watch them fly,

As far as my eyes can see.
Some day a fairy wind will blow
My wishes back to me!

Flying dreams

Dancing leaves,
They swing and sway,
Around, around
Till they touch the ground.
Until the branches
All are bare.
Then winter's frost,
Completes the show.
And dancing leaves
Are covered with snow.

Growth of the rose

When the night is too lonely
and the road has been too long,
and you think that love is only,
for the lucky and the strong...

Just remember in the winter,
far beneath the bitter snows,
lies the seed that with the sun's love,
in the spring...

~ becomes the rose ~

Abandoned beliefs

Towards the end of a year and the beggining of a new one, introspection seems to come naturally. And after a busy year concerned with aquiring self fulfillment, through beliefs of perfection, self adjustment fits appropriately. This time of the year is when action and re-action usually sets in. If not, the mirror will drown you in its swan lake and dwelling as well as feeding on air, poisoned by the old, will certainly kill you. The rigidness and reluctance to change along with its false safety inevitably holds you back.

Ambivalence suggests strong feelings in opposition. The prefix is ambidextrous, which means both and the rest of it means vigour. The word suggests that you are torn between two opposing courses of action.

But you must make a choice. To achieve your true masterpiece you must abandon your old. Although, sometimes you simply must because it is the only way you will survive, if will is enough to make the choice of abandoning an old belief that is...

The path's unexpected ending

A path I have walked many many times, a path I cannot walk again. Passing a clear blue sky free of clouds and an explosion of flowers in the colors of the rainbow... It leads to a place completely unexpected.

The surrounding houses there display great character and carry themselves so well. They stand as remainders of tradition, honor and excellence.

After a longer gradual uphill or short steep staircase, you enter a park flourishing with diverse beauties. Of course the flowers are blue, but at least laughter can be heard. During daytime the playground is occupied by energetic little ones, parkbenches of the early 19th century are occupied by ladies passionately discussing trivial matter and young boys (not at school) enjoying their youth. At night, mystic people and secrecies lurk in the park, which I have not really explored, but they are eccentric and exciting. ~ An ambiance anything but bleak.

Passing a river of sparkling blue water. There you find voluptuous trees, some with big branches and grand deep green leaves in all shapes. They usually leave a shaddow on the grass below them in the face of a bright summer sun. This is why people picknic underneath them, protected below from the burning sun by its leaf-branches. Although what strikes me the most is how massive the bridge is and begin to think how ironic it is that I have only passed the bridge by car and never actually walked over it myself...

Towards the end you finally arrive into the arms of angelic hospitality, in which it does not ever matter if you are inside looking out...

Love is life

Love can never grow old,
Locks may lose their brown and gold,
Cheeks may fade and hollow grow,
But the hearts that love will know,
Never winter's frost and chill,
Summer's warmth is in them still.

Live to fly...Fly to live

If swiming against the tide doesn't work, maybe your destiny is to flow together.

We don't like It and It is a pain. Step away from It, and It casts glances of disapproval, disdain and fear. It is silent but potentially deadly. As much as a tiny whisper, and It could be a melodramatic opera where the theme tune plays and everyone turns around and gasps... A lie. The lie of It.

And yet the Cowardly lion must face the the dark forest of life, the winged monkeys therein and the Wicked Witch of the West, who is threatening to shout and turn his fluffy friends into flameballs. Without resolve.

The Fox and the Grapes

The fox who longed for grapes, beholds with pain
The tempting clusters were too high to gain;
Grieved in his heart he forced a careless smile,
And cried ,‘They’re sharp and hardly worth my while'.