Deliver thunder, God If you choose not to talk.
A word only writes Its night and rides Its dream.
I can see myself before myself – A being through dark scenery.
I travel, always arriving in the same place.
We will go far away, to nowhere, to conquer, to fertilize until we become tired. Then we will stop and there will be our home.
One hand I extend into myself, the other toward others.
I enjoy it when the world smiles; the more smiles, the warmer I am.
A hidden spark of the dream sleeps In the forest and waits In the celestial spheres of the brain.
When the star dies, Its eye closes; tired of watching, It flies back to its first bright dream.
Will the day tell its secret Before it disappears, Becomes timeless night.
If emptiness is empty, how can something be borne or awaken from it?
To come to nothing through something is the way to outside from both sides.
To sense the peace of extinguished passion Happiness in not knowing the ultimate knowledge.
Every star was once darker than the night, before it awoke.
What does infinity mean to you? Are you not infinity and yourself?
The farther away, the closer the home becomes.
There is nobody to wake up eternal seekers.
The world is always open, Waiting to be discovered.
Either all lights are turned off or one inner light is missing.
A breeze, a forgotten summer, a smile, all can fit into a storefront window.