Healing and growth through intuitive art
All the questions that we have
Lead us to one final question
And all the power that our questions have
Comes from leading us to this
The question is: Who am I?
Or what am I?
And there is no answer to this question
Because we are the freedom
To be as we wish
Or as our heart yearns
And it is, in the end,
To be ourselves.
My old brother sits in the room of our childhood
The trees in the yard
Move slightly in the wind
Inside of his body
The clouds, one big one small
Throw a ball between them
A picture that he made one summer
Still hangs
And every step that he took
Upon the reddish earth of the village
Has left a clear imaginary mark
In the infinity that he is.
intuitiveflow 