Writing emotion

The more I know the less I know. Walking the line, please lead me.

Speaking unchosen words of anger, thoughtless, don’t deny.

Feels like loosing it, but then gives it another try.





Still is writing emotion.

Still is hearing nothing.

Still is searching the mind.

Still is asking the right questions.

Still is watching someone speak.

Stillness is wise.


The magic is in watching the seed sprout and grow, and grow and grow. Day’s and week’s and month’s, feeding it, always thinking of it.

Forget her not, for in a while she will surely wilt.

Remember her and she will bring forth her beautiful bud and bloom.