Of the world...

lenin1968.photosight.ru

My world
is not a fortress;
I made it open
and inviting
and it has its bounds
not impregnable.
Yet my space
and my time are
precious, for
flowers bloom
there.
My thoughts wander
here and there
and then come to
rest 
there.
My dreams take
shape and then
change into
a thousand more
shapes
there.
I am of the world
but not always
for the world
there.

Waking from reverie

dimasscorpio.photosight.ru

I dreamt often
of a far away land
of blue, green and gold
of love,music and spirits
of flowers, birds and children
of waves, sun and sand
and woke up to city traffic
and ambulance sirens.
The everyday rush I couldn't
escape and longed more
for the dreamland.
I want all this to end -
the dreaming and waking up.
So I now choose to 
go within, withdraw
and take in the quiet within.
Just let the quiet spread
to every cell in the body
and float.
Then it doesn't matter
when and where
I wake up.

Of Nature...3

harry.photosight.ru

Even the tiniest flower
and the mightiest trunk
live by the same light
and wear the same wind
but breathe same life
into their self
celebrating differently.
As one sways the other stands
and as one firms up 
the other fades.
And just as the grass
brushes lightly
against my bare thighs
I touch lightly
the bare bark 
of the tall ones.
To touch is to live.

Nature's work....2

slonik-pa.photosight.ru

It's a new morning
tender, fresh and soft
like the rays of the Sun.
The breeze just woke up
the flowers opened up
the birds twitter around
I am transfixed
not wanting to move
to think
to hope
to fear
wanting to be 
just be.
Like the flower
the rays 
the breeze
and do 
Nature's work.

Nature's work

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How I wish....

kral.photosight.ru

How I wish it was
easy to touch myself
like I touch this wall;
simple to exist
like the painted flower;
smooth to move
like a drawer in the store
How I wish it was
easy to own myself
like I own this house
simple to laugh
like the character in the idiot box
smooth to float
like the breeze in the garden.

The wild flower

agriss.photosight.ru

Do you know
- but how would you - 
the power of the 
wild flowers?
As you bustle your way through
them
you get on to 
another plane of existence
your insides burst open
your nostrils flare up to take in
fresh air
and you leave behind
all regrets, all sins
and all gratitude to
the power of convention
and you breathe free and light
and pure and shining.