
Do dreams have dreams? (Asked the sleeping child) In the mind of an artist The world becomes a language of symbols…
In stillness of breath. Memories wash over me. Like the salty waters of the ocean. Infinite ebbs and flows subside.
I do not wish to be the moon. Reflecting sunlight back to Earth.
Falling from the sky With the grace of wind A smile cannot pretend Words like “love” and “friend” An echo from the past Haunting…
In the waking of Spring I am child laughing at the “sun” New seeds rise from “Earth” Reaching towards the “sky” Energy bursting forward…