Beauty travels in the sky
To catch it you must fly

Astral World

Astral world is the first destination
Selflessness its true temptation

Colours speak and sounds walk
The swans, birds and trees talk

Once there, you are the traveller
Seeking truth like a true wanderer

There you shall meet your ego
Its consciousness all around you

It will trick you, real unreal again
Life’s story will start to reveal again

Lost Boat

How would you tell a story of a lost boat?
How would you?

These emotions crying on my blue trees
This flute playing melody in my ears
My heart beating like a green boat
On the verge of a sleeping waterfall
Pedalling hard in search of dry land

I’ve become a trader in my waking dream
Hyper-reality for reality, pleasure for joy
Where abouts did I loose my green boat?
My boat sailing without a sailor on the
Surface of the orange horizon of sunset
Where I lost my boat in exchange of the
Blue trees of desire and conditional love

Paradox of Mirror

On the spotless window, a white golden angel appeared. Her being fragmenting with the splashes of life’s metallic water, she transformed into the paradox of the prison’s mirror.

Truth is a Pantomime

Where to go from
This shallow running sand

What to do with
This amazing sinking soul

What awaits my wonderful,
Bright moon of dreams?

Holy land is a myth, I know
Truth is a pantomime
Buried under the silked road
Of un-faced devotion

Which Heart?

This heart, confuses me
It needs a new name

Not sure if the physical
Or the gateway of love

Both in the same place
But one only beats
The other rhythms

One can take labels
The other only gives

One is red and bloody
The other green yet blue

One will stop sooner or later
The other will travel till eternity

No name it can take
No labels
No hierarchy

How far to travel in search of truth?
With a suitcase and shaving cream

Silence is seaweed in the ocean
Solitude is seaweed in its motion

Love is silence felt in that solitude

Seedless Desire

Helpless child stirring through the current
Trying to fit in grown up’s tomato soup

Losing himself slowly; selflessly changing
Freedom substituted by prejudice
Hope instead of dream
Anger for joy
Sadness for happiness

Fits so well the child today;
Admired by the whole society

Trying to break the cage now
Wanting to open his wings
Wanting to sing with the birds
Wanting to smell the roses
Wanting, wanting, wanting

Seedless desire is wanting;
Another ingredient of the soup

Hold On

Hold on trunk of the oak tree
Dreamland is not far, swim

Birds sing and lions play drums
Monkeys dance yet leaves fall

Your roots grow deeper my dear
For every cent you give away

Waste it for good and the poor
Comes back into your well
Like a never ending rain
Pouring from the sunrise
Into the beauty of the never sleeping
Heart that your roots grow from

The Moment

“Hallucinations”, the tagline of the ignorant nations
The truth of tasteful company of humble pumpkins

Visions are in the head,
Universes in the body
All in One place;
Within; without:
The moment

Honour

Look from the eye of the four seasons
Stretch through time with the beauty
Of the spikeless red rose under the rain

The music plays like needles on the skin
Honour is the package of powerless pride
Of the spikeful yellow rose in sea of pain