The leaves have fallen,
the rose has withered,
and snowflakes bury it,
in a blanket of ice,
preserving life for the spring.
Teardrops on rose petals,
the past flies away,
on the cold winter wind,
and I learn,
to hope for the spring.
Out of nothing,
new life is born,
when I bring my soul,
to the heart of the light,
where rosebuds are born in the spring,
and petals unfold in the summer.
Poppies grow in an open meadow,
where my bare feet walk the high grass.
The soft wind brushes my hair,
and tickles my skin until I have goosebumps.
I sway my white dress on the sound,
of soft piano music playing in the background,
and I smile like the sun shining in the sky.
Happiness is a feeling of peace and light,
born deep in the heart in the middle of spring.
Choices cause us to grow like wildflowers –
like poppies they drench us in our own blood,
until we shine brighter than the great eastern sun.
I choose to be happy in this moment,
where the summer smiles at me,
in the silence of complete solitude.
I find a place under a tree on the hill,
where I sit down and meditate,
so I can hold onto to this moment a little longer.
My hands are open ready to receive,
the greatest blessing Heaven can give me,
but in this moment of patient waiting,
I learn to close my eyes and feel the Spirit,
whispering softly in the summer winds.
As I gently flutter my eye-lids open,
the red poppies smile at me,
as they fill me with the deepest peace.
Letting go of the past and the future,
forces me to live in the moment of this day,
where I learn to dance in the rain,
with my arms and my heart wide open,
until every cell is filled the deepest sense of joy.
And in this moment of pure enlightenment,
I learn that the cross is never heavier,
than my own heart can bare,
and that my heart is so much stronger,
than I could ever imagine!
The torn womb bleeds,
the deepest color red,
as broken dreams scatter,
across an endless waterfall,
where my tears,
are salty on my cheek.
The leaves fall down,
onto the damp ground,
where a swamp,
is growing grey and old.
Twigs breaks on the wind,
that is howling,
like a sad and lonely wolf.
Desolate places scream,
for endless rains of mercy,
but deaf ears cannot see,
this crystal clear reality,
that the winter will not end,
until the beginning,
of the first spring.
Fleeting hope breaks,
the fragile heart in two,
but when the soul,
is willing to fall in love,
hope arises like an eagle,
on the wings of a swan,
and burns like a golden torch,
for all eternity.
At the doorstep of spring
At the doorstep of spring,
the first jasmine petals open up,
releasing their sweet aroma,
until my heart leaps with joy.
This is what I was waiting for,
the unexplainable joy in my heart,
lifting my soul from the darkness,
into a world filled with light.
More and more I am learning,
to find the sweet aroma’s inside myself,
that I can turn into scented candles,
as a gift for the people entering my life.
No matter the problem,
no matter the outcome,
I am entering a season of spring,
where love surrounds me with peace.
Hope is the season of love,
where I learn how to trust,
in a light bigger than the darkness,
and in a love bigger than this world.
Gineke van Keulen 