
It used to be a mountain
Full of rocks
And now it is a dream
That dreams itself
To be.
Healing and growth through intuitive art

It used to be a mountain
Full of rocks
And now it is a dream
That dreams itself
To be.

The poem describes a trip from left to right in the picture.
I am running rhythmically
Down a tree covered hill
Becoming breathless suddenly
As I see the omen in the air.
The landscape sends me
Through the fields
Toward a tree that welcomes me
Into a spot
from which I’ll have to leap
Across the empty sky
To meet the sun
That hides behind a cloud.
And I wonder:
How will I make the leap
after having lost my name?