In a black and white world

In a black and white world

The sky is grey and gloomy,
the earth is covered in black and white,
and nature has never been this mystical.

Arches form doors to different realms,
as mountains enclose the waters.
I follow the river to the end of the horizon,
in order to find the end of my dream.

Heavy burdens way me down,
but my wings are still strong enough,
to keep me floating above the clear water.

Angels guide me along my journey,
and the Spirit leads me along the way.
All I must do is follow His guidance,
with a trust greater than the doubts in my heart.

Now I know that life is not about the dream,
but about learning to keep yourself floating,
in world that is too often black and white.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Movement

Movement

In the light of the morning,
I walk on the river shore.
The wind makes my hair dance,
liberating my heavy heart,
from all its burdens.
The light shimmering through the clouds,
caress my face with deep love,
until joy refills the empty spaces,
of my worried soul.
I want to run,
faster than the wind.
I want to fly,
on wings of love,
but I am parched from the endless drought.
This winter morning is a desert,
with burning sand and suffocating heat,
pushing me to search for an oasis.
The greatest battles are often the lonely ones,
where nobody can help you in your pain.
Where hail comes down like brimstone,
and thoughts like whiplashes on your back.
Unwanted feelings that drown you,
making you sink in seas of emotions.
Am I fighting against You?
Or am I fighting against myself?
I want to go back home,
crawl deep under the covers,
in an intense surge of self-pity.
So, I keep on walking,
as long as my feet can hold me,
until the river water has descended.
If liberation from grieve is in the movement,
than growth is closer than I imagined,
and joy is waiting right around the corner.

Movement

When the rosebuds came in bloom

When the rosebuds came in bloom

In an instant,
life disappears.
In flight,
it returns to me.

Searching for rosebuds,
I hold a white pearl in my hand,
but all I find is the bees nectar.
How many magnifiers will bring me back?

The spring is softer,
than the autumn storm.
In each drop,
I see a divine reflection,
while human lives,
haunt me in my dreams.

 If acceptation is a short road,
why then have I run for miles?
If I could escape my biggest nightmare,
I could catch the bubbles in the sea.

My road has been too long,
I can feel the angels watching me,
and a million wings strike across my face.

Then at the hand of the Father,
I notice,
that the white pearl in my hand,
has gently changed me,
when the rosebuds came in bloom.

when the rosebuds came in bloom

 

The Giant Tree

The Giant Tree

The bare trees die,
to gain back life in the spring.
Bald in their battle to survive,
they take on a glorious splendor,
when the fruit touch the branches,
and blossoms paint the landscape,
in bright vibrant colors.

Deep in the ground,
roots are the essence of life.
an armor against the storm.
Further and deeper they dig,
until strength is not a question,
but the answer to life.

The Giant Tree,
in the middle of the garden,
the only survivor among its kind,
feeds and shelters wildlife.
Where Life gives life-
sharing His blossom-love,
the wisdom of His roots-
fruit will grow.

The small fragile roots,
intertwine in The Giant Tree’s,
growing in His shadow,
learning His wisdom.
There I grow into a tree,
to spread the blossom-love,
that He laid upon my branches.

Blossom-love spreads,
on a spring-day,
when the sun turns,
and the shadows,
are no longer a sanctuary,
but a revelation of light,
to bear fruit for the garden,
of The Giant Tree.
the giant tree