Excerpts from "The Wind of Being"
Poetic Insights of Devotion and Madness
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Pulse
Pulse that moves this body
Lead this pen and this breath.
Knows no day or night
No time, or clock
No cold or hot
Not even yes or not.
Do Thy will back and forth,
In wich direction it wants to go,
That pulse that has no name
Is alive, and it knows no pain.
Let it consume this fingers
Let it consume this voice
It pervaides all beigns
And bursts into loving flames.
Because holy is the One voice, holy is the One pulse
By grace, let it be awaken in all hearts.
May all divine flutes, remember the holy air, that they are.
‘Cause they yearn to flow, deply through their pores.
Untitled
Is not about what`s right or wrong, good or bad…
Acctually is all about learning. Learning to contemplate the evolution.
Going trough all the aspects of life. And embrace every insight, every gesture, and every word, born from our acctions.
Is wonderment instead of judgment.
Like a curious child.
Canvas Child
Sweet little canvas,
It talks to me.
Its sutil and childlike voice wispers its wants and needs.
Each flow fills me with delight.
So impetuous, it doesn’t really care about my ideas.
But it shows me like a mirror, who I really am.
The Redeeming Silence
Into the redeeming silence of God
all the illusions of my mind are caressed.
Into this redeeming silence, is revealed a greater
greater than anything ever pictured by the mind
Flaming and transparent heart
with wings of silk
Only the loving caress of your redeeming silence
From the luminosity of past hearts
like a well tendered piece of bread.
Oh Lord,
may it all be shared in feast.
In your eyes, all there is is a look.
A look of "I am here brother, I know, and I love you."
Safe and non demanding silence
Yourself with the hunger of our shared humanity.
The cry of the abstract painting.
The cry of a soul saying Thank you.
Thank you for liberating me.
Thank you for bringing me back,
From the madness of perfection.
This is the cry of the abstract painting.
The knowing
This knowing cannot be owned, or bragged about.
By whom would it be bragged about anyway?
This knowing cannot be said, or explained, yet is so simple and available as the breath.
So simple and sutil that knows everything.
Knows even what you don´t want to know yet.
Knows even the deepest denial.
The one that still cannot be understood in words, because words are still missing to describe it.
In the deep flame of a single candle A great power resides.
A great power can be summund;
To ease the hearts of those who suffer for ignoring the stillness that Is.
When all the words vanished
part II
I wished I had beautiful words to share with you.
Words of hope, bliss and hapiness.
Of neverending assurance.
But I’m afraid your beauty would outshine all of them.
The shine underneath your tears, and your lack of hope and joy could outshine all of those manifactured words of bliss, handed over like flyers of a cheap political campaign.