The Dream

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Picture: Journey To Outer Space by Tithi LuadThong

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Bare branches against white skies.

The rain sizzles on the umbrellas,

Like frying butter on a pan. Good old fellas,

The sycamores toast at the skies:

“Quench our thirst!”

 

Nothing else,

Nothing else exists but this one

Breath you’re taking.

Inhale, exhale.

Nothing but the music all around you,

The songs you choose,

The ones you don’t.

 

Paper clouds, doused with smoky

Tinges of grey, hang unapologetically.

Are they really heavy? Isn’t it hokey

To stick our labels automatically?

“Not so fast! Let them fall away…”

 

Let what’s known surprise you over

And over again. Each millisecond,

New dimensions unfold, so fecund,

Shifting in and out, and hover

In outer space!

Yes, this is the place!

This is the time,

You’ve never been so on-time.

Clouds of paper,

Cuttlefish-ink canopies,

Bird-flutes, blown by the wind.

Wake up,

This is a dream.

 

Herons

Moment Of Grace

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Picture: Albert Square by Steven Scholes

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Fresh is a deep breath,

Encompassing it all.

Here’s the sky, above high towers:

Concrete, metal, and glass;

Old marbles of white,

Red bricks piled-up tight,

Above which, persistent is the grass.

The clouds

And the blue behind them sing to me,

As the solitary maple tree,

Somehow still green.

Afternoon, winter:

Meek python-trams moving softly;

Victorian windows, echoes of Venice;

Medieval memories overshadowing the streets.

Only now, I really see your grace,

Manchester,

The beauty of form beyond form,

Of the dream beyond the dream.

Only now…

 

Is there any other moment anyway?

 

Herons

 

Like A Drop Of Rain

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Picture: Reflections In The Rain by Urbis Manchester

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Like a drop of rain on my lips,

Cold fingertips

Touch the wind, as solid as sand,

Pouring through my hand.

Knowing the unknown

Through unspoken words,

Through unthought ideas,

Impossible to translate.

Give a smile today,

Just because you can.

You’re rich,

You own immeasurable wealth.

Your energy, your love:

The Life flowing through you.

Follow your passion,

Free from the chains of expectation.

You’re rich in freedom,

In the eternal present moment.

 

Herons

Unnecessary Possessions

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Picture: Rush Hour On Leith Street  by John M. Boyd

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Do you really need it? Will you honour it?

These are the questions that I’ve been indirectly asking myself these cold autumn days while walking into the warmth of art shops. I love art and I can’t help but notice, in myself, that consumerist society has taught us to treat everything as if it was to buy and keep – or throw. Buying something means that you’re going to make use of it in the near or distant future. For example, I’ve been a book stasher for most of my University years, and of all those attractive books I might have positively read 30%. In the last few years, I’ve questioned many of my compulsive behaviours and slowly developed a higher degree of awareness. The other day, I went to a frame and print shop in Edinburgh and felt very attracted by some art postcards, checked the price and considered buying. Afterward, I started doing what I normally do in museums or galleries: observing the painting without mental labels; first the whole pictures, then the details. Therefore I chose to not buy any of those beautiful cards. However, and here’s the trickiest part of contemporary lifestyle, I saved their details on my smartphone – as if the paintings were going to die if I didn’t – for future use or appreciation. I understand that I could use those details to share the paintings with friends or on social media, thus adding value to these people. But, we have to be very aware of the energy behind our actions. Only through presence, and therefore awareness, we achieve a powerful level of freedom in our choices. We can shift our unconscious intention – usually stemming from the constant unsatisfaction of the ego – into a more selfless or creative one. The desire to possess, cumulate, keep or save for ourselves emanates from an illusory state of lack: our egoic identity deludes itself that it needs more stuff in order to survive.

I obviously didn’t need to possess those prints and attach them to the wall to appreciate them. Probably, I didn’t even need to save their details on my web browser, but I’ve made good use of them – the picture in this article is one of those. In the present moment, the only moment we actually have, I have the chance to merge with them, to enjoy their contemplation, naturally recognizing that I don’t need to possess any beauty in order to commune with it.

 

Herons

 

Follow The Fox

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Picture: Sun Fox by Crista Forest

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Alert.

You call me out

And deliver your message.

Untamed dog, silent as the night,

Whisky-ambered,

Unseen and unforeseen citizen

Of Edinburgh.

No memories of the jolly forest

And its domestic fragrances;

No worries for the metal boulders

Sliding loudly on the cold pavement.

You’re only here

And now.

Weird lights radiate yellow and orange;

Humans stroll around

In search of spirits,

In order to lift their spirits.

“Align to your wildest intuition,”

You tell me.

“Be here,”

You tell me.

“And follow me

To the last drop of blood pumped in your heart,

And beyond.”

 

Herons

Mulberry Tree (桑树)

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Picture by Vincent Van Gogh

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So sweet are your children,

So far is your image

In the past, in the future…

Here and now I summon you,

Mulberry tree.

Some might not see it,

Some might not admit it.

Some might not taste

The texture, mild flavour, and aftertaste

Of those red, lilac, purple and black

Jewels, dangling from your canopy-rack,

Mulberry tree.

But I do,

You know, I do.

And so do you.

Sāngshù.

 

Herons

 

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By the way check out this amazing song by Dylan Ryche.

 

Let Them Pass

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Picture by Artem Chebokha

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Clouds swimming fast in the sky,

Where will you take me?

To the open mouth of a river screaming loud?

To the aching limbs of drastic doubt?

Clouds swimming fast in the sky,

What will you show me?

The skeleton of the human race?

A Chinese Buddha with his big fat face?

Clouds in the sky, screeching tires of white,

Where do you run to?

I don’t care.

Because

I’m smelling the breeze on my arms,

I’m listening to the circular saw synth-waves,

I’m feeling the warmth of this body,

Through which I experience the waves.

But my essence lies on the lakebed,

From where I quietly observe the tempests of the mind.

Let them pass,

Like clouds swimming fast in the sky.

 

Herons