
Soft clouds
Open up like wings
To wake up
The little houses
That are held
By the weave of the world.
It is time, they say,
To cross the bridge
Near the place
Where the sun ends the day
To a place
That you do not
Yet know.
Healing and growth through intuitive art

Soft clouds
Open up like wings
To wake up
The little houses
That are held
By the weave of the world.
It is time, they say,
To cross the bridge
Near the place
Where the sun ends the day
To a place
That you do not
Yet know.