Poetry and Meditation

That great emptiness
That great emptiness in my heart
For years,
Spacious as the most distant dreams
In which You appear suddenly...
For to fulfill myself of Your beauty,
And praise the day and the light of raising,
For not to precipice in space
Of the missing events as countless things:
Suffering and joy in solitude of
Life...

That everything - to feel
The exhale of Eternity,
Inhale of Love...
To Be...
*
Again, and again
Reality tunes up:
Inflow and the outflow of the waters,
The fullness of the Moon and New Moon,
Rising Sun and Sunset,
Falling of leaves and shooting of buds,
Waters circulations around the Globe,
Life - Love - Death and
New Life.
Rhythm and rocking,
The Rise and Fall,
Inspiration and Exhalation
Countless forms of Existence.
Whosoever has the access in
The Fullness of the Beauty and Life?
At front of the Being
Which lasts as an invisible smile:
Mona Lisa or Buddha?
Whosoever participates in
Total suffering of Christ's
Painful Mystery?
That everything - to feel
The exhale of Eternity,
Inhale of Love...
To Be...
*
How much do You need
From it
To praise each day by
Art and Work?
How much do You need
To jump into a day, anew
As into a water
With a hope You can once at last
Find the Secret Script
Which is not soaked through yet, in the bottle...
To read it!
That everything - to feel
The exhale of Eternity,
Inhale of Love...
To Be...
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Cloud
Then is coming
Mist of the colors,
Cover the sounds.
Then branches
Are bending for thanks.
My heart shortly breathing
In the try to rise
Together - with waves
Of mystery river,
Over silent stones.
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Wild Geese
Every night I look at dark spots
Wild geese sleep on the water.
All flock drifting in the twilight.
Why birds not flying to the South?
There is The Book of the Knowledge.
There is the Book of the Things
Out of All Recognition.
There is the secret: to know where,
Which Scroll, what and who to belong.
Just myself, until now I can't find
That mysterious The Library...
Borges says: there is real
Number of the birds,
Even You can't see and count,
In the motion or for any other reason.
It's existing over recognition.
All thing: that is not secret number,
Just we don't know.
You may imagine:
What will happen when You find
The Scroll of The Universe?
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Behind the Blizzard
Snow, snow, snow!
And wind, and blizzard.
How good to be inside... ?
In small and warm room...
On other side of the window cold.
On the Outer Side of the Life is a Mystery!
Why to think about Outer Side?
It is not enough To Be... ?
Here and Now?
To Be Happy?
To Be Here and Now?
... ?
The blizzard
Have to be great
Metaphor of the Life?
I'm wondering, if
I can live - without Outer Space
In my mind?
Behind the Blizzard.
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An Homage
I paid homage to Beauty's altar
Not conscious that is only skating-rink or...
"Down the hill ecstasy."
And still ignorant: how is possible,
Than good God leaving us at prey of Beauty,
Which paralyze those, who sacrifice own fate.
And I fell astonishment and grief
That life is a line of renunciation
Steady expose on suffering our tender senses.
Finally punish that way: showing others suffering
Whereas ours are just sentimental tears...
Where is the Beauty
Which affect and same time sublimate ones?
Where is the place for
What fill our self
And leave deep inside emptiness...
Who's going to judge this?