Scent of sweet green grass
smoking between bubble foam -
right there, inverted souls.
Nostrils - gods of wind
and storm, unleashed so softly,
bubbles faring smooth.
Arranging paintings on still waters -
our breath the ***** of countless healing hearts,
we travel through theses gardens of our busy mind,
so fast - we almost cannot grasp the closeness of plain wholeness.
On speedy tracks we fall to loving
while moments are long gone.
Thinking, sinking in dimensions,
where for once we give us as we feel, oily flowing the wheel.
Yes and no, stop and go,
such powerful instruments,
fast, sometimes, slow.
Already hearts of light,
on their way of finding trust inside -
open as they kiss
Always a surprise what a cup of tea can start. :D
23. September 2019