Monday, 23 February 2026

Pause

 Allow the pause

feel the pause

~ between ~

the inbreath

the outbreath

...   ...   ...

allow to create

from that space

where nothing

is everything


Looking,searching stillness

less still, anxiousness

restless, not in this moment

yet

analyzing, oversubscribing, 

unsubscribing, uninstalling

paying the consequences

confidential content

share and likes

instant, distant, 

blurs and sketches

seeing through the lenses

of insecure existance

exit the stance

exit the insta

roll away from scrolling

feel the real and not the reel

feed the post inside what is most

neglected parts of me

which is lost in the ether

where the cloud stores the data shit

fossil fuel, digital carbon footprint

global emission, streaming live,

just text and post, re post, dive

into the ocean of vlogs, shorts,

google, youtube and all the net

that can't fix, nor repair

the damage is done

yet


pause

think

and then, don't


just be the flesh and bones

muscles and nerves

the eye of the storm

the ear of the sound

the inner fluids, blood pumping

tinnitus shrilling 

listen and stop

let the force of plasma slow the junk,

space debris, shed away,

away with the shit skin

away with the shedding

away with the noise

and pollution

this is the solution

time is the essence

qualiti and stillness

from within

no interference

airplane mode

silent alert

switch off

sleep mide

rest

be still, embrace the silence

embrace the stillness

pause

-





Wednesday, 21 January 2026

Lapis lazuli




Long before your world had borders or names, I was carried out of the mountains like a piece of midnight broken loose. Traders held me up to the sun and saw constellations caught inside my blue—golden sparks of pyrite shining like the memory of stars.

They believed I was not mined, but found, fallen from the heavens.

In the temples of Sumer, they crushed my surface into pigment for the eyes of goddesses—Inanna’s gaze lined in my celestial dust so she might see both worlds at once. Kings wore me against their skin to steady their judgment. Scribes pressed my blue into their tablets, calling upon me for truth in word and deed.

I traveled to Egypt, where they said I was a sliver of the night sky placed upon the earth. Priests used me in rites to open the “Heavenly Ear,” where the divine whispers could be heard. They set me in amulets for the dead so the soul could recognize the stars and find its way home.

I remember Cleopatra’s pulse against me.
I remember the prayers of artisans shaping me into the Eye of Ra.
I remember the pharaohs who trusted me with their dreams.

I became a stone of vision.
A stone of sovereignty.
A stone that refuses to lie.

When you hold me now, I do not soften you.
I do not blur your edges.
I do not hush the truth.

My gift is clarity that cuts through illusion—
a deep-blue knowing that rises from the marrow of your being.

Sit with me, and I will show you:

the truth you already sense
the wisdom you keep swallowing
the voice you muted so long you forgot its sound.

I illuminate what is hidden.
Not gently, not faintly,
but with the stark honesty of starlight on a moonless night.

You may feel me in the throat—
the old place of power and proclamation—
where your words gather like birds poised to fly.

You may feel me in the brow—
the inner horizon—
where intuition uncoils and begins to move again.

But wherever you feel me, know this:

I am not here to comfort you.
I am here to awaken you.

I am Lapis Lazuli,
the night sky made stone,
the keeper of ancient wisdom,
the voice that rises from the dark and refuses to be silenced.






Thursday, 1 January 2026

Hush

 


Hush,


listen, listen carefully,

stop, and breathe, 

be the silence

that is now,

rest and dream;

oh, the stillness

is sweet indeed

a luxury, a comfort

and all is needed.

Hush, now,

safe in Mother Nature's arms

return home,

to yourself.


Hush,

no needto explain, elaborate,

no need to make excuses,

just pause, 

and slow your heart beat

right down;

it is not death, maybe sleep,

restore, prepare

for the renewal ahead,

not yet,

not yet

...

if only,

let time go still


hush