Find

Do you want something to play with, forever?
There, you have it.
And because you have it
Nothing can ever be complete
Coz’ then it would be the end
And you want something to play with forever.

I wonder how many times
We open and close our eyes
As where we are is but a book
In a library that stretches beyond the sight
When a page is blank white
Anything is possible

Beyond every notion and reference
Gathered in this life
Just like that it flips to new
As to not even remember
What the other one was like
Rides without finish line

In Accordance

The rain enriches things with meaning. While my belonged state is of peace and tender warmth, one it comes, I know what it means. And I know what it means to leave my troubles behind me. As of present date, I have not been able to tell apart the source of my providence from what has also brought me very hard days. Who am I to question the way things go, only that I know what I am after, and patiently working to have it fully brought about. And when we place a flag over clouds of haunting, the same clouds that shaped our guts, I head straight for rainbow sights, something very complimentary about the meaning of life. It says, “You burn and you are light.”, “You scream in high-ceiling cathedrals and it reverberates to levitate hardship in sublime.” So my knees bend to the ground and I am nothing and it all, a living gesture first of all, amazed by plants and ant trails for a living. I have been here many times, how deep in one’s mind can pathways unwind till we bang on a wall and into questions such as, “What am I, and everything around me?”, the conflicting confrontation of there being a reality in the first place. Sometimes easier in not knowing, layer in layer, we are the surfaced apprehension of something deep in stirring. It’s in the circling of our blood as in air we breathe; there are measures of liveliness in the experience of being. At times overwhelming by the volatility of its energetic content, what gets our heart beating is something to ride on. And just as it is, it wasn’t meant to be kept still, so nature is busy being alive, as are you and I, hopefully doing the things we most like, as clear summer days are a refreshing place to thrive.

Tapestry

Image by Amy E. Fraser

Deep within the layers of consciousness
Lies the building blocks of who we are
These surface like shredded pieces of paper
Like the echo of an echo
You chase its source to another echo

Could one tell apart
Who you are
From what you have experienced?

Every memory you have
Comes to a place, a face,
A language

These bind to impressions
Form and sensation
Perimeter our world

Then there’s the feeling
Of being outside of time
Because everything has happened
Repeated times over
Or you keep going back
To one same unspotted spot

Neither here nor there
Nor a place one could mark
But a state of recollection
More like everything that could ever be
Beyond the shape of my see

Living

Being happy
Is fulfillment with what you have

Look upwards at what you don’t
And you can venture a whole country

It will sound huge till you find
Someone has a galaxy
Dripping watercolor light
In their backyards

One could climb the Himalayas
And it wouldn’t be quite the peak
Given the sight of a higher reach

As for the experience of it
There’s a limit of thrill the brain can make at a time
It’s the way we’re designed
So that gold medalists can’t proclaim themselves happier
Than kids with brand new bikes

That’s when we learn
There is pleasure in searching
Reaching and trying
As is feeling sand below our feet
Happiness indeed

We are given and we’re taken
Always fighting to retrieve
As our goals and needs
Begin to harmonize
Makes the journey back home
The story of a life

…

Happiness
Is finding yourself in what you do

The Eyes

In the moment of allness
There’s nothing to be said or done
It spins around itself
Pleasure Pain
And sheer strength

I give a world
Your twigs to sprout
You shapeless thing
Unbeing

Are you there before the moment
Have you seen before the eye

Can you fall into my empty hand
That knows of everything
Place and time
Your inside

Vision

The way my baby has to ride
To see his way to shore
Goes about to where he is
Settled in existence

Lively alive
That he may twine
His insides out
Astronaut of consciousness

And when he is serene
He’ll be wide awake asleep
Bless this mighty dream
Real in every feeling

In The Woods

Miss Lilly, so hungry found her way to a picnic of such fine-looking hungry-food. Hungry-food, she puzzled, how so is this food? The more of it you eat, the hungrier you’ll get, replied the squirrel by the basket. Oh this food looks so delicious I must give hungry-food a try. So she started with a pie, some cheese, and dressing on a salad. And half-way through her meal, food became an ordeal for her hunger had already doubled in size, so she proceeded with even larger bites, as one who hasn’t seen food in a very long time. And Miss Lilly full of hunger and so hungry she got, she began feeling weak and the forks and the spoons were too heavy for her reach. She turned to the side having eaten so much; dizzy and light-headed she threw all the hungry-food up. As the hunger subsided she felt like she had eaten something. Climbed the squirrel on her lap with a word of advice, said, Miss Lilly, when searching for lunch, in these forests and woods, keep an eye out, good luck!

Ocean Paddles

There is one Awesome power
In letting go

And letting the flow
Take over

Like a wave that no one breaks
You swim the sea
Or dive in

Say let it be
Carry me

-

I can study all day long
Bed my night wanting more
More make do in streching reach
Completely incomplete

-

Layed my cards on the table
Stroked the water in attempts
Could only hold on to me
And let the day come fresh

-

As surfacing from the deep
Inhale before next leap

Cloud Literature

There’s a sense of rightness inside
Balanced compass needles
The flavor of a feeling
Signature of metamorphoses
Photographed to recognition
Archives of compounds
And how they like to play
Interplay between
A new scribbling


Life runs down to detail
The way things are
The way they are
Patterns emerge
Like rolling a dice
Can you feel the shapes of lines?

I take it all in
Sight reading

Portrait of My Grandparents / Retrato dos meus Avós

Oil on canvas / Óleo sobre tela
23.6 x 19.7 inches / 60x50 cm

Grandma gave me a picture of her and Grandpa asking me if I could do a portrait of them, which I accepted. It took awhile to finish but here it is. I guess the most challenging part was getting right paint mixtures. And I was eager to post it here on the blog so it’s a good feeling to have it completed.

Minha avó me deu um retrato dela e de meu avô perguntando se eu podia pintar um retrato deles, que eu aceitei. Demorou um pouco para finalizar, mas aqui está. Talvez a parte mais desafiadora foi saber misturar as tintas. E eu estava desejando posta-lo aqui no blog então é uma boa sensação tê-lo completado.

Wakening

Translucid
Winds
To mirror mirrors
Veiling waterfall
Each side on
Reflections to the open
Send of time and know
Organified within
State of being

As I was born
Lost in mazement

The Stirring Wind

The way things go
I take it all in
State of acceptance

In doing my part
To steering this boat
Away from the storm

So troubles we excel
Place a flag on top
And the winds blow
Across lands

Foundation

What a mystery
To be

Cracks down
In its condition
Of mystery

And mystery is no more

Spinning wheel

The endless and the pick
By doing one thing
We renounce every other

Choice as an exercise
Of giving up

And things start getting done
Coz’ that one thing we do
We flavor to do well

Such limitation
Is an alley
To condensate
Substantialized

As worlds to form and color

What’s this?
It’s life and living

Everything bites
Everything else

If death were not so
We’d have to live with eternity

Forever and ever
And ever and ever

Is likely
As bugling

So renewal comes to birthdays
And days our parts take shape of others
As other parts take shape of me

Unison

This morning I saw a vulture
Gliding in warm sunrise
Wings stretched on each tip

Spotted a little feather
Land on an antenna poll

Thought they were in for a ball
Then I saw one needed breakfast
Little bird wasn’t in for the menu

And I sang
Perfect harmony
All living things


(written on Monday)