Winter – the colour of my hair, a sedentary state of being, the numbing over of ambitions… These are but illusions… I am fluid, essence
Sail erected, call it ‘Hope’ Location dialed in Saboteurs asleep Done with party persona, inalterable generalities Ready to cater to the awake Willing to believe
How is it that a tree can stir my soul, so? Yet, set amongst the Douglas firs – an orchestra of giants, the reassurance of
Rooted in the earth, ever reaching for the sky – speaking nature’s truth.
(Rumi’s words have been on my mind lately, so I’ve decided to share them for today’s post.) The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell
Open to healing – delve into the subconscious create a space for inspiration. Ignore limited capabilities – no offerings are meager – enter with pure