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?
A garden grows
At the top of the soil
With a touch of sadness
To it
A lonely soul
Is leaving
Hoping to have it better
In another place
There is gold in the earth
And next to it
A hidden wound
A flood of sadness
And the body of a man
He is resting now
Near water and green
He is dreaming
Of a life that he could have
If he managed to go up
To the open air
Passing the blood
And the tendency of history
To pull us down
Against our will
In the open air
Our garden grows
Married
To a trauma
But we know
Don’t we
That every morsel of this scene
Is made of gold
We wipe our golden tears
With wonder.
I wouldn’t mind
having a big room where
on the clean floor
somewhere farther than the middle
this
will stand
just a line
maybe dark grey
as here
and people will get
a little book
of white thick paper
and a beautiful small collection
of very soft oil crayons
to do anything they want
with color
and I will go away
to sit in the garden
with a cup of
coffee
and infinity
then
people will come to me
with their color works
and we will laugh
like children
on a free day
from school.
intuitiveflow 