Healing and growth through intuitive art
When the storm
Is passing
When the thunder
Is still heard
And the horseback riders
Of distraction
Are still
Chasing them
Look through.
See the trees and meadows
See how much
The sky is deep
And laugh.
You are deeper than them.
Think of
Other things
You want
To make
Out of yourself
And play.
Alive
Here
And now
Appears
And
Disappears.
No.
He grew up differently
From how it was expected.
The entanglements of his mind
Kept scaffoldings going
All around him,
While within,
And it was not caught
By outside eyes,
a plant emerged
In his inside world,
The light of which
Is felt
Far, far away.
The big wind came
And swept away
The little house,
The trees
And the ripples in the water
And so it worked
Till there was nothing left, but
The little house,
The trees
And the ripples in the water.
Boo!!!
I frightened you
Now
The trembling waves
Are sinking
In the white
And what about
The texture
Of the white, you ask?
It is the source
Of stories
Wait for them
The light
Will stream
Unblinking
Can you take it
With your heart?
And you?
She talked harshly to the children
There was only love among them
They were too nervous to learn
She was too nervous to teach
It stayed like this for many years
In the end of which it was
The habitual way to feel good
Togeher.
Is it a mountain
Or the roof of a barn?
Is this a cloud
Or a smoking chimney?
And this,
Is this a man
With a bird in his hand?
What does he think about?
Do his thoughts
Dive in the sky?
And the drop of green
That fell on the face of the paper,
Why did it fall?
Can this drop be another world
With other people and birds?
Why don't they come closer
To shake hands with us
To have tea
And talk about our lives?
And can the children
Go out and play together
In the backyards
Of the universe?
There was a thought
And very soon emotions gathered
In no time
The wind will chase them all away
But we will still be blinded
By the light they had.
I am passing near the jungles
Leaving dust behind
The big eye is looking
The men and women of all times
Grow out of the timeless bulb
Shining yellow light
I am traveling to another place
I do not know it yet
But this one here, I also do not know
All I know is: It is me
In all the different colors
Appearing many, being one.
I have been interviewed twice for an online magazine, called: Vega Magic Magazine. It is a magazine about inspiring life. They also call it: Digital Magazine for Creative Minds. It is created in Spain and translated to other languages. The first interview was in a video form, the second in a written form. They sent me questions and I wrote my answers. For the video one you can just go to YouTube and search for Giora Carmi. You will find it easily (with other interviews). For the written one you have to go to the magazine: https://www.vegamagicmagazine.com and look inside of it for the interview.
Weeds grow haphazardly in the village
And the village travels like a boat
On the face of history
To reach its destination
Aren’t the weeds distracting to the travel?
And what’s the village’s goal, if not
To travel while the weeds distract?
And why is the goal so far away
Along the waves of words,
And not right here, right now?
intuitiveflow 