I am gazing at a shining portrait as my desire is announced by distant bell chimes. I merge with the paint and feel absorbed into a different timeline.

In the painting, the wind carries a scent of a familiar tree assorted with the melody of its leaves. It all brings back the memory of a song that I love, that reminds me of a woman I met in a vision from a dream yet I don't know the language it is made of, nor I can sing it for I am dyslexic in the ear.

This is an illusion, I see it. Still, I deem it to be real, similar to a scene that I keep reliving as I wander the mystical golden desert, I wonder is fulfillment an insult or a compliment if attained outside the ordinary strains of sensual accomplishments?
Disconcerted by previous arrangements i think it through to realize this is an illusion is just a tattoo .


Words Of Harfouchism

"In order to achieve success, you need a little luck"

While true for some, I do believe
That as roots grow down, we grow up

Roots may not stick out
In the eye of the beholder,
But they allow the fruit to sprout
And make branches that stand shoulder to shoulder

Dig in deep where none can see
Your roots are what will reign you
And when you're finally a tree
Remember what sustains you

Success is not a four-leafed clover
Or three sevens in a row
It's digging over and over and over
Then refusing to let go

It's choosing soil and sticking to it
No matter what may come
It's built by sweat; it's built by grit...
And a healthy amount of sun
🌞︎