The embers of my life
Burnt a slow blue hue
As if they were aching for more fuel
I knew where I had to go
Towards you
A path I never knew I’d choose
But it just felt right
And still continues to do
You gave me the fuel
By the warmth of your hearth
......
Sitting under the magnolia tree in late summer
The sky is a luminous crackle of varnish on an ancient vase.
I am staring up, staring through a creature’s veins,
innumerable shades of verdant gold
sap rushing into and out of cells,
botanical respiration humming
on just the other side
of sight and sound.
The tree says nothing
and I say nothing.
......
To be a bird,
a beauty of nature.
Continuous skies, endless sights.
No limits, no Borders.
My peace would be as a bird.
sitting amongst scenes of peace and tranquility.
Geen nood om te spreken.
De lucht houdt de stilte vast
zoals water in een onaangeroerd meer.
Licht beweegt traag,
alsof het twijfelt
of het wil blijven of verdwijnen.
De adem wordt dieper.
De tijd vergeet zichzelf.
......
No need to speak.
The air holds stillness
like water in an untouched lake.
Light moves slowly,
as if unsure
whether to stay or leave.
Breath deepens.
Time forgets itself.
......
Es gibt keinen Grund zu sprechen.
Die Luft hält die Stille
wie Wasser in einem unberührten See.
Das Licht bewegt sich langsam,
als wäre es unsicher,
ob es bleiben oder gehen soll.
Der Atem wird tiefer.
Die Zeit vergisst sich selbst.
......
Geen nood om te spreken.
De lucht houdt de stilte vast
zoals water in een onaangeroerd meer.
Licht beweegt traag,
alsof het twijfelt
of het wil blijven of verdwijnen.
De adem wordt dieper.
De tijd vergeet zichzelf.
......
No need to speak.
The air holds stillness
like water in an untouched lake.
Light moves slowly,
as if unsure
whether to stay or leave.
Breath deepens.
Time forgets itself.
......
Sitting under the magnolia tree in late summer
The sky is a luminous crackle of varnish on an ancient vase.
I am staring up, staring through a creature’s veins,
innumerable shades of verdant gold
sap rushing into and out of cells,
botanical respiration humming
on just the other side
of sight and sound.
The tree says nothing
and I say nothing.
......
To be a bird,
a beauty of nature.
Continuous skies, endless sights.
No limits, no Borders.
My peace would be as a bird.
sitting amongst scenes of peace and tranquility.