Autumn, at last

It is over, now
over the fields, moisture dwells
on dry summer leaves.

Just by...

As long as we live
in selfless kindness, we give 
just by existing.

If only we chose to see

In my world, to see

is my personal motto;

and love, the wide path

to vanish sadness

or the desire to reclaim

what was never ours:

Ideas of perfect

just as we wish to have it,

despising its flaws,

clinging to our need

to make it all work our way,

ignoring virtues

that hide because we deny

the beauty of life,

simply as it is.

Inception (of the mind), inspired by the movie

Meditation dreams,
death of what is real, or fake
when we reach limbo:
the viral regret
and the sour, stabbing neglect
pleading to let go.

And then, we rise up
in absolute dark blankness
where nightmares simply crack
at the sound of a chimeb
and two snapping fingers
announcing Buddha,

the awaken one.

Autumn

Gold! it will all be,
the sinking sun, the quiet pond
and the musty leaves.

On Equinox day

Fullmoon rain falls loose,

soulmating in loneliness 

with the dreamy night.

Broken storm (haiku)

Waterfalls of light
filter through the guarding clouds,
blessing restless waves.

Equinox (Haiku)

Fall leaves, falling free.
Deep honey lights chant and leak
through the sleepy mist.

Nirvana (with English translation)

"No, no sé nada"
dice la luz, hambrienta
de sol vacío.

"No, I know nothing"

says the craving light, hungry

for an empty sun.

The pursuit of...?

Men made man greedy:

egos as empty balloons

floating aimlessly.

Haiku of hope for the lonely

Split in syllables,
lonesome street songs cry and mend
my broken love dreams.

Haiku for The Hague

Hush, hush, The Hague speaks.
Powdery rain pours over
creaking steamy streets.

Farewell to the summer

Weeping willow trees,
a coffin, crushed leaves
in cracking stillness.

Little prayer for stray dreams

 Nyx, goddess of the night, William-Adolphe Bouguereau – La Nuit (1883)

Lullaby after lullaby,  the graceful gods of the silence whisper the nightly songs of the ebony angels. Like gracious tempting shadows, mysterious stray dreams dance and tease the raven feathers of my tired eyes.  As if longing for shelter, the goddess Nox softly squeezes herself into my velvet pupils and I have no other choice but to surrender to her blank blanket of darkness. And I embrace her lovingly, with the faith that in a fraction of a second, someone, somewhere, won't shed a drop of blood or sorrow, nor a tear of fear. 

 

No more.