The Holy Art of Sorrow.

Your sorrow is so deep,
all infinite, and steep,
your tears are guiding way
through hardest of your days.

Your Heart became a hole,
like this hardest, blackest coal,
and your feelings went inside,
yes, you crawled back there to hide.

The Universe went dark,
so you lost your Holy Spark,
cause your Day went down to Night,
and you did not care to fight.

The Darkness was all there,
yes it filled you everywhere,
it was all you now believed,
what your senses all perceived.

You did not care to stay,
so you lost your Highest Way,
nor you`d recognize the Spark,
only floating in the Dark.

But everyone needs time,
for the Mountain up to climb,
and defying all the Heights,
just to get the Newest Sight.

Maybe answers aren`t there,
and there`s questions you must bear,
But these feelings in your Heart,
may draw out a brand new Chart.

And this Way is made of Stars,
Shining down on all your scars,
so that you may learn to See,
how to be Completely Free.

But the Road is long and hard,
cause you make yourself this guard,
and it`s task is to protect,
how it does? It disconnects.

When afraid you feel alone;
only useless and unknown,
but the clue is to connect,
with your love and self respect.

Then you feel; we are all there,
everyday, and everywhere,
and you`ll never be alone,
you are One of Cosmos` Tones.

And the Sorrow that you feel,
will need Years, and Lives to Heal,
but the Gift that you will get,
is your Heart`s Hight Intellect.

Where you`r darkest and most sore,
there, the key is to your Core,
to the pathway from Above,
which will Teach you Honest Love.

And your feelings are all there,
so you learn how you should care,
for yourself, and for your Heart;
Yes! That is The Holy Art.

The Power of Life

The Power of Life
is the rythm of your chest,
the questions never guessed,
the heavens mighty quest.

But what about my thoughts?

I tend to think
of the softness of the wind
carrying my hair
with its fingers of the air…

All the roses, and its smell
what stories they can tell…
and the love in it, as well!

Yes, all those tender feelings,
and how we are they defined;
they tend to be our ceilings
tampering with our mind!

It makes us blind…

At least, if we don`t listen,
to the darkness in ourselves,
cause then it tends to be stored
on our dusty, darkened shelves…

Blow of the dust…