Hiding
“I am the judge and jury. The harshest sceptic, condemner. The executioner with the swiftest blade…”
What creative does not know the tale? The squandering of talents crying to break
Escaping through the sands of time
a sublime rush running down your spine
The colors flow, ebb and swirl
spinning around in a vibrant blur
Freely falling into the arms of the clouds
Yet no way is up and no way is down
Here at the edge of this place
there is no meaning to time and space
A place where dreams come to dwell
only those who seek can know this as well
Where the deepest hopes live and breathe
Once wrapped in the magic, you never wish to leave
In the depths of every heart
lies the hidden door with wisdom to impart
When the time is right, you will see
that it takes a dreamer to find the key
Isn’t it magnificent that in our dreams absolutely anything is possible?
We are completely unencumbered by the laws of reality or any restraints we put on ourselves. For once we can just spread our wings and fly.
Some say dreams are the songs of our subconscious – an insight to what we truly think and feel if our stubborn “day brain” would just let it through. We all have dreams, wishes, aspirations. Isn’t it nice to think there is a place where we can just embrace them? Grab them? Twirl them around and dance in their splendour? To feel what it would be like if we were truly free?
I believe dreams, the ones that sit right in the heart of your soul, should never be ignored. These are the dreams that don’t just float through at night, but call to you each waking moment.
It is for those dreams that we live, love and breathe. Your heart will always tell you what you really need, what path to follow, what’s right for you.
Be a dreamer and listen
“I am the judge and jury. The harshest sceptic, condemner. The executioner with the swiftest blade…”
What creative does not know the tale? The squandering of talents crying to break
“If the heart could speak…would it shed tears of mourning for the scarring of the soul? Dragging steal across bone, carving in “I’m not enough…”
“What flows into song cannot be unsung, the motion of the world long moved undone…” Within each note is a chain to something far beyond ourselves, calling us home.
Berlin Artist, Artist and Poet, American Artist, American Poet, Nature Artist, Poems of Love, Berlin Poet, Spoken Word Artist, Best Poetry, Musical Artist
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