landscape Is that correct?. The rivers that frighten my veins and their changing temperatures pass the doubt. Will the other peaceful countryside that dominates what happens in windows? We
forms at the height of the warmth, struggling for satiety uncontrollable, unmanageable, basic but very spiritual, like the first time they were children and unwittingly arrived at the certainty of beauty.
Today, in the air, it smells home, perhaps the first hug, but mystically disintegrated in millions of light particles, almost intangible, and relatives (happily) with a thousand times worn by poets, spring breeze.
So I assume I can control my internal nodes.
I've seen in the intrinsic pedestal of autumn, many other distractions to greet, with inimitable charm, to the roots of the soul. Not all concave leaf falls in the path tells us to death ... This rise lilies, chrysanthemums, creeks, bare gray flowers that praise as necessary ... the stinging yellow leaf, old and smiling portion of a tree ready to be reborn, to captivate silently manifest life commitment to permanence, with the miracle in the small unforgettable with the shame of death compared to the subtlety of the universe.
Every certain number of years, or sometimes decades, threatening an autumn deservedly get measured, allowing us to be reborn after the unusual delicacy of a warm season. Only then, renewing the mechanics of dreams, just so the new shoots of hope are secured in the fertility of a free soul, cool, eternally young, before the universe, naturally ungovernable.
Today I am living this fall. Peel Slowly
dead skin from the trees that were once in bloom, retain the Cinderella litter yesterday because, truthfully, and lights still unknown that lies ahead, and happily end the season the trees burst.
My time has come.
From the depths of the earth ground, the meat packaging weighing, the seed of light, crying for my freedom.
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