Shake the image of yourself

Shake the image you have used to see each day in the mirror..
it isn't you, nor represents your qualities.
You are to be found within the inner spaces and outer of the context of the meek and obedient sheep.
Seek.. inside the empty spaces.. there, you will hear a voice calling..
follow that voice..
You will be found on an empty shore in the dawn, praying to the four winds, wearing the face of silence.
And as they are heading towards the wall, the waters stood still to protect you.
You exist beyond the heard prayers.
There's a place, where the trees weave the elegant movements, walking all together, in silence ~

Memories dressed from without

Flares, glimpses of the time-moments, erupt in-between the smooth motion, as I sneak in, making space with my shoulders-moving slowly like a cat.
Beneath the ground I used to keep the wine, that ready-made from bitter moments, to sweeten my memories, memories dressed from without ~

When the mother was a moth she used to weave her cocoon high, high up in the trees, it then got warmed by the sunshine rays and the faith of the crystal siblings was mesmerizing across the valley of the dew-forest delights.
Every moment opened, shined through the mirror of time and the kindness of the entire world was so overflowed from bliss that all the boys came there to smile at the dawn and sing to the trees, laying down their golden wings-too delicate to dream of their own flights, too powerful to carry the sorrow of the world ~ Grigoris Deoudis

«Soft and silky are your senses right now, transparent, lighter than a feather, lifted up to the air, like the prayer of that child with those wide open eyes, a crystal clear glance like the heaven, staring at the core of your existence, making you feel ashamed for what you have done and thoughtful of what you are going to do from now on.» — Grigoris Deoudis

Weaving Dreams into Reality

«Before the Time erupts all the moments, Spiders taught us how to vibrate our will under the moonlight and how to spin the web of our intent along the riverside.
The thunder-drum taught us how to listen to the sound of our heart and then the thunder struck with all the pride and the thunder heard far away, at every little particle of the sunrise.
And then the Light that shone was so bright that took away all the words out of our mouths.» — Grigoris Deoudis