At dawn our angels meet

This sun is orange, as if it cried for you the entire night while away from you, as if it dreamed about you with a passion of a proud solitary… in an unknown night, in a mysterious ground.

At dawn our eyes meet, your face is rouge from the passions of a love with beginnings long forgotten in the past, with basis beyond sacrifice, above pain. This warmth of you brings a flute song in this savage heart, high notes filled with magic for a fairytale… a fairytale made from the both of us, belonging to the both of us – gently conquering us, when awake or when sleeping like this, closely tight. At dawn, our angels meet.

It all began here, on the ground, among all people; and it echoes up there, far in the heights where you and I make a home together.

All we know is that we exist: you for me, and I for you. Damn everything else…

 

"Wiser than dreams"

Dawn is waking, light slowly conquers the heavens above. Sun with a red morn heats what’s left from the night, and all that can be heard is silence of people…

The skies are still guarding most of the stars. Life opens its eyes into a sleepy tranquility from the black of the night, only to sail away into those uncertain waters of the new day. This moment might seem like when a bird gently separates from the ground, only to soar into the heights of its own freedom. This dawn (like any other) yearns for days. Tears transform into dew and waves are carving the sea.

Here life bathes in white light, freedom is inhaled through the nostrils, peace fills the inside and sweetness saturates the smile of a man… in these long years of my youth:)

Liberating, satisfying and loving…

Where are the end boundaries of our waters?

Rhythms of Life

Pinching impulses in the cortex, something like endless waves on the shores of my consciousness. Always creating and working out of time, this tireless gear transmission resistant to the grinding force of abrasion. Wireless thoughts of new beginnings welcoming as the dawn itself, seductively promising horizons beyond a horizon. This place is on the edges of reason, where voices holler feelings; there things exist restructured down to their scents – elemental parts creating the one dome that is me.

In such a place of the mind beings are without form. There, contours of the body are no more. Because the spirit is weightless and it’s composed of a mix of nameless colors; a niche of perception pulsating with energy as if it’s reborn every time, traveling from one heartbeat to the other. And with each succeeding pulse it gets louder and brighter, just for the thrill because it can;)

Rhythms of life… and somewhere in there – the beginning of who I am!