Amigo Absoluto

Kyoko walks alone in the morning tide, comforted for a fleeting moment by salty air. She feels the same sand between her toes as when she was a barefoot little girl, in a time she felt safe, when the eyes of her mother protected her like a suit of armor - before the mighty wall of water, the “harbor wave”, towered over her village near Fukushima, washing her happy childhood away. Her dear mother, her security, her everything never came home that day. Many months later, her father, a local fisherman, has lost his ability to cry, laugh or tell her why. His silent eyes, cold as frost, are dead like the poisoned fish he nets every morning. In many ways, Kyoko lost both of her parents on that haunting day - forced to grow up long before the water receded, before the nuclear leak, before this new, austere existence. Night deepens the despair. She is loneliest when darkness invades. She prays for the crickets return. They no longer sing her to sleep, and the stars have...

Arms and legs in rhythm with an oriental sound belly dancing beauty reaching out to claim the world. Intoxicating movements brings a kingdom to his knees. Crawling up beside her with lust and tongues of fire he promises her treasures to appease his deep desire. Salomé dances round him with eyes that scream revenge A martyr's head to win her soul for hell she must avenge. ~~ C. O'Mahony

Let her be the way she is, not who you envision she should bloom into. For not all of us were meant to blossom into roses and daffodils, some of us  were made to burst into our own constellations, embracing the dark and glittering on our own. ~~Madelyn Beck

 A glint of her hair or a flash of her shoulder —  That is the most I can boast to have seen, Then all is lost as the shadows enfold her,  Forest glades making a screen of their green, Could I cast off all the cares of tomorrow— Could I forget all the fret of today Then, my heart free from the burdens I borrow,  Nature’s chaste spirit her face would display. Poem by Ellis Parker Butler photo by david49100

Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe It was many and many a year ago In a kingdom by the sea That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of ANNABEL LEE; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child In this kingdom by the sea; But we loved with a love that was more than love- I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that long ago In this kingdom by the sea A wind blew out of a cloud chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsman came And bore her away from me To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea. The angels not half so happy in heaven Went envying her and me- Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those w...

"I make no difference  between a book and a person, a sunset, a painting. Everything I love, I  love with a single love. " Marina Cvetaeva, The country of the soul. Letters

"I am a forest,  and a night of dark trees, but he who is not afraid  of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses." ~~Friedrich Nietzche (Thus spoke Zarathustra)

“You are a volume in the divine book A mirror to the power that created the universe Whatever you want, ask it of yourself Whatever you’re looking for can only be found Inside of you” ― Rumi

"He Dies Slowly" - the poem “Muere Lentamente” by Martha Medeiros (often incorrectly attributed to Pablo Neruda) He who does not travel, who does not read, who does not listen to music, who does not find grace in himself, dies slowly. He who slowly destroys his own self-esteem, who does not allow himself to be helped, who spends days on end complaining about his own bad luck, about the rain that never stops, dies slowly. He who becomes the slave of habit, who follows the same routes every day, who never changes pace, who does not risk and change the colour of his clothes, who does not speak and does not experience, dies slowly. He or she who shuns passion, who prefers black on white, dotting ones rather than a bundle of emotions, the kind that make your eyes glimmer, that turn a yawn into a smile, that make the heart pound in the face of mistakes and feelings, dies slowly. He or she who does not turn things topsy-turvy, who is unhappy at work, who d...

"The chemistry of Mind is different from the chemistry of Heart. The Mind is careful,,suspicious & says: Be careful, protect yourself'.. Whereas Heart says: Let yourself go'.. The Mind is strong,,never falls down.. while Heart hurts itself,,falls into ruins. A Broken Heart💔hides so many treasures."

There is nothing you can see that is not a flower; there is nothing you can think that is not a moon. - Basho

"Memory takes a lot of poetic license.  It omits some details; others are exaggerated,  according to the emotional value of the articles  it touches, for memory is seated predominantly  in the heart. The interior is therefore rather dim  and poetic." — Tennessee Williams

Library : A playground for the mind.

"Outside, the ocean was crashing, waves hitting sand, then pulling back to sea. I thought of everything being washed away, again and again. We make such messes in this life, both accidentally and on purpose. But wiping the surface clean doesn't really make anything neater. It just masks what is below. It's only when you really dig down deep, go underground, that you can see who you really are." — Sarah Dessen

Arthur Rimbaud: Sensation On the blue summer evenings, I shall go down the paths, Getting pricked by the corn, crushing the short grass: Dreamer, I'll feel the freshness at my feet. I let the wind bathe my bare head. I will not speak, I will not think anything: But infinite love will come to my soul, And I will go far, far away, like a gypsy, By Nature, - happy as with a woman

Sweetly her fragrance intoxicates a gentle flower, in the stillness she waits the music her breathing creates Her secret lullaby She can't disguise her beauty and how magical falling can be the touch of love is no mystery Her breathtaking sigh A buttercup she is . . Capturing moments like this Copyright © Brandy Nicole

Then he left, and with him he took the sun, the moon, the stars, and anything inside of me that might have been good. ~~Julie Murphy

Pink and perfect mystery to which I ply my finger, she ripens so exquisitely the longer that I linger and fluff the modest blossom with my gentle loving hand, teasing, ever pleasing so that now I understand how beautiful the flower that yields without duress, blooming now so fully in the warmth of my caress. Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe

"Do not try to resist the changes that are imposed on you. On the contrary, let life continue in you, and do not worry that your life is upside down. How do you know that the meaning you are used to is better than the one to come? ~~Elik Shafak

The world is a looking glass. It gives back to every one A true reflection of their own thoughts... Paris restaurant occupies four floors on a corner building in Pigalle district. Photo credit @a-on the road on Instagram

I wish I could show you, when you are lonely or in darkness, the astonishing light of your own being. ~~ Hafiz

In a second the world stands still Because you have to hear that what you do not want at all Future uncertain that's not how it should be But you are not feeling yet the real sadness and pain Numb and unreal heard everything in a daze Because it is real sense very slowly drilled into you Talk, silence, thinking and being Until you wake up tomorrow And your nightmare turns out to be the truth ~~Nicolasina Clement

The smile of the heart as a unique compass ... When we seek our way, offer us a heart to heart with our Self ... Let's calmly breathe the waters of our spring ... how do we feel in our truth? Is it a nectar of joy, love and peace? Is the heart open? Or is it a tumult nourished by our fears, our lacks, our painful solitudes? Does the heart feel crushed? Let us listen to what emerges in our center, from this very pulsation of life, this ultimate truth that is nested within us ... it is our only guide. All the rest is illusion, mental din and control. During the winter of our inner seasons, do we doubt the return of spring during this solitary march, in the chaos of what appears around us? Or, are we in a state of trust without fail, because we know that we are walking inexorably towards the oasis in which all the seeds of our love will flourish ... Life is not wrong and besides we are life ... every situation is tailored to shape the diamond we are. So the barometer of our h...

Happy dreamers, idealists, tender ones.  Happy the naive, the big ones who have not lost the desire to feel like children in their souls.  Blessed are those who do not give up their love for fear. Happy brave hearts. ~~Albert Einstein

Time is free,      but it's priceless. You can't own it,      but you can use it. You can't keep it,      but you can spend it. Once you've lost it,      you can never get it back.

Sit with yourself, in quiet, and ask your heart,  “What do I really, really, really want for my life?” . When you know what you want and begin to walk your path to get there  it’s most important that you have an intimate, friendship with yourself,  love yourself completely, and have strong, healthy boundaries. . We’re all in this “boat called life” together so you’re confidence,  security, and love strengthens not only you but everyone you encounter.  ~xoxo Michelle & Barb

This life is yours. Take the power to choose what you  want to do and do it well. Take the power to love  what you want in life and love it honestly. Take the power to walk in the forest and be  a part of nature. Take the power to control your own life. No one else can do it for you.  Take the power to make your life happy.” ― Susan Polis Schut

What I am is related to what I believe to be.  My reality is seen with my own filters ...  that's how I create my world. I am free to take life by heart to see the eternal moment with the tones that make my joy vibrate.

There are times in all of our lives when we are forced to reach deep into ourselves to feel the truth of our real nature. For each of us there comes a moment when we can no longer live our lives by accident. ~~ Wayne Muller Photo Credit: Stein Liland

The still lake sleeps dreaming of being the perennial stream.  It waits to swivel it around, not knowing it itself has the power to break boundaries  For if it keeps pushing the frontiers again and again, one day the dam will burst.     The dreamer

I sit before flowers hoping they will train me in the art of opening up. I stand on mountain tops believing that avalanches will teach me to let go. I know nothing but I am here to learn. ~~ Shane Koyczan Photo Credit:Hellios 77-M-4

Cada día la vida crea para cada uno de nosotros una melodía diferente, ella inventa la música pero podemos elegir cómo bailarla. Every day life creates for each of us a different melody, she invents the music but we can choose how to dance it. Ogni giorno la vita crea per ciascuno di noi una melodia diversa, lei inventa la musica ma noi possiamo scegliere come danzarla.

* I have discovered that the scariest dragons and fiercest giants... usually turn out to be no more than windmills.

I feel as though the best moments are those that are unexpected.  The unscripted smiles and laughter. Let loose.  Be you. Be free.  Life isn’t made to be planned out, enjoy the simple things and be  inspired by the memories left unrehearsed.

Edna ... All alone. ~~~ She sits in a battered old armchair Clues to previous meals on the seat, her cardigan full of moth invasions but she wears it despite the days heat. The nurse dressed her at seven this morning before the day really set in No TV, so no weather forecasts but it`s August and the nights they draw in. She sit all alone until evening and the nurse` welcome return. *** Her vocal chords need exercising but she`s no one`s priority concern. At lunchtime each day twelve noon on the dot, they bring her a meal that, although nourishing, she wishes was hot. Although it`s not appetising, she will always eat half, the alternative being to sit there and starve. The rest of the meal will sit there congealing until tomorrow when it`s picked up with false smiles and feeling. *** At seven each night, the nurse will arrive.. she gives Edna a bath and checks she`s alive. Bathing takes ten minutes from the word go.. `I do have other patients too see to, you kn...

I shed my past like layers of skin.I let them fall at my feet like discarded clothing. I pay my dues and make amends for the sins of my youth. I step out from the shadows into the sunlight, naked and free. I can hear my spirit singing. I can feel my wings unfolding. And the sky is calling my name. ~~  Lang Leav

"The eye is always caught by light, but shadows have more to say." — Gregory Maguire (Photo: Cat Ewing Willison)

Through the blackest night, morning gently tiptoes, feeling its way to dawn. ~ Robert Brault ~ Image by Phillip & Monica Noll

"At one magical instant in your early childhood, the page of a book—that string of confused, alien ciphers—shivered into meaning. Words spoke to you, gave up their secrets; at that moment, whole universes opened. You became, irrevocably, a reader." — Alberto Manguel

A gentle heart, a gentle soul, a gentle hand. The compassionate touch lightly upon this earth and upon all things living here, yet often they are harsh with themselves forgetting to extend the same love that flows outward back within. The softest among us are often most in need of their own tenderness or of someone to reach back, to caress the caresser with an equal stroke of a gentle hand. -© E.Lucas -photo via Little Piece Of Whisper

The withered beauty as a dying heart bleeds its last ink. ~dg

"Mistakes are the usual bridge  between inexperience and wisdom." - Phyllis Theroux

“I got lost in the night, without the light of your eyelids, and when the night surrounded me  I was born again: I was the owner of my own darkness.” ― Pablo Neruda

I departed gently, like a soft breeze that enters a window and cools off a room with a very soft entry; I entered a path of ancient rough stone, all covered with bush and trees overgrown. My goal was to find the source of a scent that filled our small home , with aromas of roses and flowery cologne. I followed the scent down the old rugged road, all empty and absent of a single abode. As I made my slow steps through the bushes and trees, the scent grew much stronger, real hard to believe. After more than one hour no scent could be stronger, and I knew then my search would not last much longer. My thoughts proved me right and as I moved much closer, there stood the source of the scent, a huge pink Rugosa. I sat down on the ground next the heavenly rosa, and felt then that heaven could never me closer. I sat there transfixed, giving thanks up above, for more than one hour, then headed back home and out of the bower.

"Stop terrorizing yourself with your thoughts. It's awful to live like this. Find a mental image that makes  you happy and immediately chase  your thought of fear by the thought of pleasure. "  ~  Louise Hay

“Growing apart doesn’t change  the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled.  I’m glad for that”.   ~~Ally Condie, Matched

“We are like butterflies who flutter for a day and think it is forever.” ~Carl Sagan. Art:©Maria van Oosterwijck. “Vanitas still life.”

The World Exists as You Perceive it… It is Not what You See, but How You See it… It is Not what You Hear, but How You Hear it… It is Not what You Feel… but How You Feel it.  - Rumi

Happiness is walking through a flower field ...

The black smoky cloud Floating in the air Was ready to spread its wings to the world. I looked up to see its black strong wings. Part by part , section by section It floated away and re-joined slowly. It seemed an Eagle spreading its wings above my head. The sight was interesting but scary Again and again I looked up with scary eyes To my surprise – I heard a roaring sound. It was a thunder with all its mighty voice. In a minute , a drop of water fell on my head. Drop by drop water fell on my body too. I was fully drenched. I felt sympathy for my strong Eagle- For shedding tears. The water drops whispered in my ears- Every strong body contains a melting heart within. How true it is ! a smile spread on my lips

There is poetry in the, Heart of the ocean, A longing in the soul, To be enfolded in its waves, As they create a ripple, Of pulsating thrill in me. A calming tranquility, Fascinating wondrous hues, Magnetic is the attraction, Alluring me to its depths, A love of great magnitude, Like the mystery of its beauty. Waves touch upon my soul, With its pure spirit, Whispering its music, Making me spellbound, As they tickle my toes, Haunting me with its caress

Long after the mind forgets the details, the heart remembers the feelings. ~~ picture : "The Minnesota Watercolor" 1983 by Jim Dine