The Art of True Living

The withered flowers,
can only arise from their ashes,
when I can give them back,
to the dark earth.
So, I burry them,
deep within the soil,
for them to rediscover,
the art of true living.

Born from the ashes,
the red rose blooms in the summer,
and from the thorns,
I bleed the same color red.

Renewal

Renewal

The devaluation of life,
breaks even the strongest heart,
but when the honeycomb breaks –
crushed in the palm of my hand,
the soul lives a lifetime longer,
and the heart learns to live,
in the renewal of the mind.

Crushed stones become a pathway,
carrying the feet of an entire nation,
where not even the dirt my feet,
can stop me from laughing,
the tears down my cheeks,
until my soul is dancing in the desert.

The song of my ancestors

A dove coos above my head,
behind the orange and red sun blinds,
where I cannot see him.
I listen to his voice until he leaves,
and wait for the tears to find my eyes.
A love song that flies away on the wind,
takes with her the beauty of the moment.
I look into a black and white photograph,
and see my ancestors neatly lined up,
with my grandfather as a young boy,
covered in his innocence,
standing patiently on the side.
What are the untold stories,
that so many have forgotten to tell us,
about the essence of our lives?
What would they tell me,
if I would ask them about the meaning,
the only way to be happy in this life?
I cannot tell myself this answer,
because he died when I was too young,
to understand the meaning of this question.
To run or to hide is what I am asking now,
as the storm rages all around me,
but I stay until the eye of the tornado,
hides me in the safest place of her womb.
Paralyzed I hang in the air,
like a numb paraglider who forgot his trade,
and whose life is now at the mercy of God.
But as I balance between life and death,
I look at this astonishing sunset,
to realize that this is only beginning.
The songs of my ancestors have left me,
the rhymes of my mother’s heart are fading,
but the word of God still lingers in my soul
where it lights up all the dark places.
I look once more over my shoulder,
to find the dove that reminded me of them,
but she is long gone,
and just like that I lose my balance,
forced to choose between life and death.
I let go and choose to live,
because the stories of these ancestor,
cannot end in this moment.
So, I softly continue this love song,
with the strength of my ancestors,
safely hidden in my heart,
and the love of God all around me.

( The picture posted is personal property! If you want to use it, ask first! Thank You!)

Nail it on that cross!

A flower growing between the cold stone rocks –
in temperatures that reach far below zero,
and where even the animals do not choose to live,
still survives on the strength within,
that searches for life in the midst of an expected death,
that is who I really am!

It is not the hope or the love that forces me to go on,
but the ever-present reluctancy to give up.
A faith that lives deep inside of me,
tells me everyday that there has got to be more.
More than this endless suffering,
more than this heart-wrenching pain,
that forces my pillow to catch my tears in the night,
and my soul to hide them during the day.

A Force that is bigger than all of this –
bigger than our entire universe,
is what the last piece of my heart holds onto.
All I hope for is that this Force,
takes my pain and nails it on that cross,
where it can die along with my tears,
to restore the hope,
born from love,
that establishes a fountain of joy,
within every corner of my heart!

The white tiger

Regal and Majestic,
the white tiger roams the jungle,
looking for that one thing he needs.
Unable to accept the patience,
he so desperately needs,
he allows the green leaves,
to scratch his coat,
leaving a trail of cotton wool behind.
His impatience forces him,
to make mistakes,
he otherwise would not make.
The only way to his destination,
is by waiting in the shadows,
for that one prey,
and that one opportunity.
White tigers are hunters,
who know what they do,
but just like the white tiger,
we can fail to camouflage ourselves,
in the shadows of the jungle,
and miss our most important meal of the day!
But when we learn,
to lay low in the bushes,
of this jungle of life,
in complete patience and focus,
we will reach our target,
faster than we could ever imagine.

Patience is a virtue,
not easily learned,
but too important,
to miss out on.

From the Ashes

From the Ashes

Sometimes it is a miracle,
that the cracked house still stands.
Exfoliated paint has dimmed,
the always lively outer walls.
Crumbled wall joints have given,
the luxury estate a poor appearance.
The door hangs in the frame,
showing the many break ins,
this house has had to endure,
and when entering,
the emptiness proves the robberies,
of this dilapidated mansion.
Antique pink walls hint the past,
of parties with women in fancy dresses,
drinking champagne and cocktails,
whose spirits now haunt,
this desolated, empty place.
Where have they gone, I wonder?

A painting falls down the wall,
one from the baroque period,
that surprisingly still shows,
every detail of the painters work.
I am lost in this castle,
with its empty spaces and walls,
and the many cobwebs,
covering the ceiling –
even the spiders have left.
There is nothing left for me,
and a little bird on the window sill,
tells me it is time to leave.

Against all the voice,
telling me to say goodbye,
there is one asking me to stay,
for even a house in this broken state,
has a chance of coming back to life.

Love is a force,
with unbreakable strength,
that can make a flower bloom,
in the middle of the winter.
When you collect this force,
that is deep within your heart,
miracles will begin to happen,
and even an old dilapidated house,
can arise from its ashes!

Soar

Soar,

My lips are painful and dry, as if I have been walking, through the desert for weeks. Now I am longing for streams of water, surrounding my body and soul. For the wind to lift me up, and give me wings like angels, so I can rise above myself – to see myself from a new perspective, if only these glasses were helping me! I spend my days in meditation, where a continuous flow of words, makes her way from my heart to yours. Gratitude is what I always learned, but now I am longing for more, because I feel that I am ready, to open my heart and fly, out of this desert into the promised land, I am ready to soar!

Roots

Roots

Roots dig deep,
at the rivershore,
laying a firm foundation,
for the old cottage.
The water rises,
the wind blows through the trees,
bowing and breaking the branches,
but the roots do not give in.
As the sun sets behind the horizon,
the country roads become dark,
and the foxes come out of their holes to play,
still the roots protect the house,
for whatever is built on love,
will never fall,
and whoever relies,
on this firm foundation,
will find goodness,
for the rest of his life.

A Lesson in Strength

A Lesson in Strength

A storm in a glass of water,
maybe that was all I had to endure,
but for me it was a tornado,
a giant flood overwhelming me.
I needed the world to stop,
for my life to come to a halt.
I needed panic to take me over,
and fear to pierce a way through my heart.

In order for us to become stronger,
we first have to become weaker.
For strength can only enter our soul,
if it defeats all the negative inside us,
and diminishes our fears and doubts.
When the mind grows stronger,
it allows our faith to grow,
so we can learn to trust ourselves.
Like a seed in the dark earth,
first has to die,
in order to bloom in its brightest colors,
that is how our dark hearts,
first has to die inside of us,
in order to become strong and invincible.
When we are willing to face our fear,
we are able to defeat them in the battle.
If we are willing to work on ourselves,
the victory of self-growth will be ours.
The lesson of strength,
has been the most valuable in my life,
for it has taught me,
that when you do not give up,
anything is possible.
The key is to put one foot in front of the other,
to breathe one breath at the time,
to force your heart to keep on beating,
when the darkness seems to engulf you.
But the greatest help in this process,
was a man on a cross,
who rose from the dead,
and who believed in me,
long before I did.
The road to pure strength,
goes through deep dark valleys,
and over high mountains,
but at the end of the road,
the prize of self-love,
understanding, wisdom, and confidence,
is worth everything!

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Photo: taken by myself at a bamboo forest in France in 2014!

When the heart burns

When the heart burns

Every step I take,
my empty heart burns,
like a forest on fire.
Trying to rescue life,
in all its forms,
I make a decision,
to fight.

The sun on the horizon,
promises me hope,
but how can I believe,
in a new land,
when the old one,
is still burning?

Letting go of sorrow,
feels like the end,
of my very last breath,
overwhelming me with fear,
until I decide,
to breathe again.

Every step I take,
my empty heart burns,
so lay it on the ground,
to find life without it,
but how can I live,
without my heart?

Every season,
teaches us lessons,
but this season appears,
the hardest of them all,
so I have to believe,
that the lesson of this season,
will be the biggest one,
I have ever learned.

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Photograph made by: Gineke van Keulen!