we shall test once
this ‘nothing is coincidental’
bias
to sense all senses
as if not ours
to fill a bucket full
of thoughts
as if not ours
to place the body
temporarily
in a tree
as if not ours

and connect
these lines
to a wireframe
as the collaborative work
of the ingenious director
and the engineer
both of which
staged their dream
as one complete piece
not longer than
all that could be perceived
in one lifetime

“so much work
oh so much work
still to be done …”
s/he said
in the meantime

yet 5 minutes should  just be enough
for that ...resolution
without wondering and complaint

you know what to do
you walk the path
like a tailor
sleeping and waking up
working on one garment just
tagged as life

tailor that will sleep and wake up
until the garment is unpatched
so they will disappear all together
a garment that makes one invisible
when cycles are dropped

when autumn leaves shower
to show off
what they can do for me -jubilantly
as I pass
because I pass
I hear the twithoo
of the nobly circling wild bird
resonating from far aways and depths of the
valleys that are known so well to both of us
one of us though  forgets sometimes:)

She
the bird of wisdom is there
to remind me of
who I truly am
once again
patiently
by the sharpness of the sound
that contours the visibility of the thick mist
as friendly monsters of childhood dreams

and I look up

Sky is
while you would be reading these lines

No you can’t disprove me
nothing is coincidental
but I still like to play the coward sometimes
and incidentally ;)
hide under the safe blanket of your poetry
making it a patchy garment of you and me
that will be dropped someday
non coincidentally
for one love only

There is a number that knows itself
Logic has predicted its numberness at most
but logic does not know to what it matches

Within its coordinateless space
beyond the mind
the number has formed itself
at the expense of fixing
a masterpiece about a lover
made of the shape of one’s desire
becoming that one pure desire
of and to and for  All

or simply invisible
known to none
matterless
formless
filling
temporary silhouettes
until
silhouettes collapse
unknowingly
about their
barbapapaic nature
to the unknowing

so
what you call

‘grand’  
‘poetry’

the combination of chosen words
made of letters
presenting duality
between me and me
made of the sound of the form of one’s
ever changing body in one’s mind
Vibrates

in such frequency that
when one reads
one connects one to one
( like in maths –
and a bit more complex than that
considering sensual feedbacks etc :))
and transforms
almost vectorial  to

some resulting frequency
of an irreversible altered state
and a doses of future changes
but such occurrence cannot take place
when once known

OOPS!

such occurrence takes place
if it is irrevocable of the finite shells
of time

a true joker
has a pure skin as such
through a veil of pores
nothingness floats
towards its knowing
keeps oneself as is
unknown to all the separateness there is
Thus the program forgets
(:D = thankfully)
or runs infinitely  at a place :
‘this could be heaven and this could be hell’
as in Hotel California

so
you should know for yourself
if you wanna make it love  
because

If you not
It’s then someone else
because
It is always someone
as reasoning goes

it is a manifestation of the self
a contextualization of a narrative
as story requires
as story unfolds

I always remind myself to
keep up to one reason just
which eventually are no words
but sound or silence of
a reflection on an expanding
surface of a bubble in pure
unfixable color

Oh
words of preconditioned unoriginals
manifestations of self adorations
what is there to be said or heard or grasped?

when All stories are the same?

Shaped extensions of one source
sticking out repeatedly to tell one thing just
expanding the bubble
within the bubble and the bubble

just
to be heard
once
as big as a
Hum

en route exit as scriptures call it
but am I gonna be able to hear it?
(or you or us … )

A little stone
found me on my way
she took me in her hands
using my hands
and she whispered
using the sound of the wind:

My gift to you
she said
is the moment
that makes you be
these endless landscapes
I’ve crossed
until our ways met
to touch this way

We exchange to purify
without being attached
no thoughts – no visions –
no appreciation of time –
no expectations from the past –
no intention of the next and after
shall trespass

This is a message to be delivered to you
that shall come in handy sometime
because it’s no mystery that
there really is no one out there
but a technology of
‘when you are not
the will suffers having not
initiated my mud
to sculpt ‘
then
the following is a swamp

Come lets walk hand in hand
stand on that hill and watch
while the wind blows us through the blue
rounding red yellow curly hue
of high rocks

look inside
and sing now
one as I
*
then you will see
then you will be
you do not need to touch
pick a stone just
call it mystery
call it technology
all the same
when all there is
is is
not the eyes
but my presence
that which illuminates
sees
sees to dance
and correct postures
sees to be  
the very object
as clarity
eyes gets better
if it were blurred
posture straightens
if it were crimpled
you become the sweetest
shape  of the wind to a bumblebee
an ever expanding
harmonics of a
song unknowingly
for a moment just
for a moment maybe
but such a moment of
a celebration is
comparable to a
lifetime only

I won’t find you through poetry
You are engraved in my heart
I don’t search

Standing here above clouds
my beautiful clothes
in tones of  blue
fitting well to the charming veil
colorless transparent
an accentuation just
for the deep darkness  of
crystal  black
long long hair
I comb every day
beside a mount steam
waiting for your appearance
as love
singing a song of ripening desire
to the creatures and things
accompanying

some lie aside to cheer
some shy away - Hide
behind rocks to listen just
I smile to all the innocence
there is
knowing all is living
made of you and I
As I of you and you of I

then molecules shine in air
things know
they can see and touch that smile
made of my fingertips -
the bearer of all healing

my eyes wear a makeup
made of the finest pigment of wild mountain flowers
tuned to materialize
by the blue glitter of the holy dress of truth
made of my love for you

my perfume is what I am is my skin silkened by
that fragrance of wild roses 7 levels above the sacred sleeper
that makes you forget of all things but the fragrance
then you wake up and say  
as if - as if it smells like roses everywhere

You stand there in a shelter of pine at my  doorway wooden
smile in such way that you are the carrier of all universal attraction
I give my hand to you
the soldier of truth - WE
we are one standing under that pine
making us both invisible
You smile  (in the house of love)

There I met you once
There we keep each other
Only there I will see you
again and again

without stories of the mundane
of cycles
of lives
experienced

I close my eyes
not to see you through
the iota of the sedimented
delusion of records yet to be formed (by you and I)
not to touch you
stop my burning desire
let it  burn in the scariest of my own illusive deception
let it burn with the impurity blindly beard
so is I what cannot be wasted
so is I what I reserve for you to deserve of you
because  WE
we live in a timeless tale of love
one moment of love
we exchange in silence
where you are the sun I am that one  crystal for you to shine through me
and create

*

And so I go now again
return to my life story
cheerlessly
but a must
for our common goal
of excellence  
without you in it
my duty is highest warriorship
for all
I am the green eyed invincible warrior
made of a zero or one
I go in wisdom and light
Peace is you in my heart

you can’t find
between the lines
it’s one poem only
reshapes consequently
desires knowingly
breathes simultaneously
collapses memory
forgets willingly
to be delivered by love

where every question bears
the shape of its answer
or of you
and I

yes it’s one poem only

Sounds ancient   but
It hasn't happened yet
It's happening now!

Hey Stranger
Where do I know you from?

You just open the door
and come in
Or you have always been there
without my knowing?

Hey Stranger
Where are you from?
Hey Stranger
Where do I know you from?
Sitting by my side
When I think I am just alone

Hey Stranger
Where did you come from?
To share
The campfire

You are just a sparkle
Appearing
that may
bring the Sunlight
just before the moon is disappearing
to make me
Awake
from this
Nicest dream
or am I
Awake
with you sitting here?

hey Stranger
Where are you from?
Where did you come from?
Are you real?
or just a dream?
and Stay with me
before
…..
…..

Singing
Swimming
Dancing
or making
Loooveee
It’s Loooveee
until
you go

Go on just
It’s the highway
we’re crossing
Highway
horizonless
until we make
one
Home
beyond
the sinking
Sun

will rise somewhere
Again
where might be
a dream
or real
Same
as long
as
you’re here

Hey Stranger!
Make me Real
Hey Stranger
You’re me
Sitting just
beside
my campfire

Me is Campfire
You is Me is Stranger
Hey Stranger
Stranger
Stranger
Stranger
Stranger

this subtle passage
is the rhythm of
appearances of deserts
crossing horizons
sweeping mysteries
melting duality
to a mirage of
one day I will get it  right
type of longing
while silence remains
in one self-similar coral just