Dreams that never are

Oh, she insisted, begged, pleaded

Yet, no interest, no reply

After, no explanation needed

No justification could apply

It was all there in the cold stare

In the blank expression of the face

No other moment can compare

To when alone you fall in space

She closed her eyes and heart and soul

She began falling

Ever slow

And I can hear her, though afar

Amidst life and its demands

Her cry for dreams that never are

Comments

I upset people (This may be the first of a series)

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No espelho

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I am the kind of person who lights candles. This is now, not then. it is a recently acquired habit, one that has done me well. I light up candles every day. In the beginning of each class I set up an intention, I focus and I light the candle. I ask myself to be the light, to be the container, not the conduit. I am now the kind of person Who walks barefoot on the grass of my backyard and lets herself shower in the improbable rain of Brasilia in May. The four elements rest now on my desk making my therapist smile when told about them, making her proud of myself and my journey. I am the kind of person that feels the connection with the elements, and nature and the universe, so new. I am again a newborn being. And it is not the first time, I have once died and it’s no secret. This time, however, I did not have to die. I had only to shed the old skin, the one who served me no more. I am still the kind of person who looks in the mirror and who wonders who this new being is. This...

Inner Babel / Babel Interior

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