Nostalgia

Memories are like treasures buried in your mind.
The more you look at them and hold them,
The more polished will they appear, until they one day
Outshine the reality that birthed them.
To me, this is a reasonable magic that lets our life story
Shine just a little bit more beautifully.

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This is the raw Earthlight

This is the raw earthlight in the winter twilight:
A dusty burn, murky blue,
The shadow of a night bird
On patches of snow.
Dreams and melancholy colliding
With frozen cobwebs.
A heart stumbling in between sturdy tree trunks
Looking for stillness and consolation

Last night my soul walked barefooted

Last night my soul walked barefooted
Amongst stars and left a sketch of wingspan
On my heart.
But today when I woke up it was shrouded
In thick morning mist.
So I had to take my life for a walk to the sea
To see it reflected there on bouncing
Silver currents heading towards land.

The heart of dreams

My windbeaten dreams were once so fragile,
I wanted to feed the silence with words.
But now I see that it is behind
those beautifully shaped summer clouds;
When chased away by a winters storm,
The night is revealed,
And the heart of dreams
shaped in constellations of faraway light.
Strength is not boisterous and unyielding,
It is a faraway light resting in a constellation
Only a small insignificant human being
can see the true shape of.

Clouds rise from the sea

Clouds rise from the sea,
Something whispers in swirls of shining lies:
Moon after moon mirrored in shivers of blue.
A life has been poured tenderly into a watery mould:
The feather of a Sunbird making its way to the sky.
It is always that which leaves without a trace
That is remembered the longest.