when i paint i dream with open eyes, a wake sleep,
ready to die.
the lands i painted wait for me, in enjoy the walk, then i hear the grass, and become part of the plants i seeded.
I talk with the the trees, the mountains. Im already thin like air?
chilling…somewhat distracted me, im back in reality.
a water mirrors a disdained one - where was myself all this time ?
this hands asking me, if they did something right till now,
silently, consoling feathers grow out my fingers and fluff tender over my soul.
suddenly a storm comes up and hope irrupts violently,
the flowers nectar cry for me
wild blows the wind by, the mirror disappears like always
but its another wind - i see another future, yet clearer and closer, and enjoy so much
as the sun comes out and touches me, i feel my legs levitating, walking over the clouds…i will try to fly, now…