words create worlds
Of course I wish I could have stayed more days. These were the most needed days in a long time. And no, it has nothing to do with the new virus. If it exists, it has a meaning, a purpose. Maybe there was a meaning behind the number 2 I had to bear with surprise.
It only seems to be the end of a beginning lost in space- the single breath the story began with; the tear from the awakened eye- the mother of the oceans, the father of the skies. The root of the eternal wisdom, encircling the space of forms, continually expands. Three times the power of the
Confined, a part of infinite yet finite in a form, osmotic cosmos only our hearts would know while our limbs, our thoughts and feelings- designed by numbers, equations, laws of ancient pasts remain contingent on the lowest light. What would it take to exit from the loop? Cutting the cord, renouncing a body pinned on the
On the seventh day, we should have rested, cradled in the seventh realm of our heart, the choir of all souls we should have heard, we should have lived the bliss of breathing light. Bewildered by a myriad of stars, our eyes have drowned into their milky shine; their fast pulsating orbs, our heart pulled
If perfect triads twist our mind, reality is waltzing (on earth as it is in heaven) while one plus two plus three is always six, a double three (the rhythm of our steps) in perfect harmony with our spirits (unfolding symphonies of senseless sounds) filling the gaps between the words (a seamless canvas paints).
Worlds of Words 