Letters of the Past
We know this body, not the soul that is steering us ashore.
Out of touch with what is real, foolishly we ask for more
than this body can provide us with, with the mind playing the master.
This amnesia is a choice and a recipe for disaster.
There is nothing like these politicians, leaders or dictators
in the land of inner bliss, where eternally love caters
those receptive and who wish to know the meaning of no-mind.
Walk away from all you know and don't ever look behind.
In the letters of the past, there is hope with wings spread wide,
but you cannot always push aside the now to go and hide
in the memories you're holding; a nostalgic ode to love.
Up above the clouds, you're cruising on the wings of just one dove.
Imagine all the beauty in the people down below you,
and consider that the dove you love this beauty cannot show you.
To detach would be unwise, but non-attachment sounds appealing.
In the streets, amid these people, is where you will start your healing.
Subtle ways in which this dove creeps in deserve to be respected,
and the judge needs to be shown that he's loved and he's accepted.
Feelings you've protected yourself from now need to flourish,
and the fact that you have changed and grew so much needs to be cherished.
Mountains Calling
I can hear the mountains calling
me to walk away and go all in.
Should I leave this place behind?
Uncertain of what I will find,
I spread my wings and let the wind dictate my direction.
I trust in God and know that He will offer me protection.
I'm free to flee this place for good and find connection.
It this world is my projection, it's perfection.
Wayward Patterns
Brittle lies and brittle feelings;
Brittle love beneath these ceilings;
Fragile hearts backed by desire;
Cosy blankets fuelled by fire.
Little did we feel but spoke it.
Hesitant, for to provoke it
would mean doomsday for us both.
Wayward patterns hinder growth.
*All images come from Canva.com *
Much Love,
Luka