Healing and growth through intuitive art
In my little garden of dreams I swim I find the red hard to chew But the green invites me The yellows warm me up The grays advise to rest I see the screens That tell of being open and enclosed I see the big lines Building lives and falling But now It's up to me I can close my eyes To have a different thought And where do you think I'll be When they will open?
In some place
Like in so many others
For this moment
The plant is attached to the tip of the world
The balance of flat and broken and empty
Of dots and leaves and feathers
Depends on
One very thin line
In a way that is unknown to us
The open chord of feathers in the moving air
Is perfect
For those who also like dots on a white surface
This is a rock
For children
Who make rocks and plants
From dreams.
The trees brush your window
The trees brush your window
The precipice steals your breath
The cloud calls you to fly with him.
What do you want to do now?
With your morning coffee cup in hand
You let your dreams glide among the trees
To the horizon and beyond.
What do you want to do now?
You know how the trees negotiate their growth
To agree with their surroundings
You know, as you had made them be that way.
What do you want to do now?
The sky
Of sweet air
Always comes to you.
What do you want to do now?
intuitiveflow 