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dime, cuéntame que se corte el silencio que resuenen ecos en las parede del olvido dime, cuéntame que se vuelva a sentir el temblor de tua palabras y en la noche se filtre el soplo de tus suspiros dime, cuéntame aquí espero que estalle tu mirada que truenen latidos en su camara oculta que corra y corra el corazón en su sangre ardiente dime, cuéntame sin marcar momentos sin marcar ausencias suenan las campanas del deseo llaman con sus palabras sordas que se acabe ya!

waves hit the shore recede their murmur echoes deep, deep within the ocean sparkles beyond the shore like a familiar constellation I rejoice in the moment the ocean's breeze regales my heart with memories

Hi G***. The High Priestess introduces you to the next path on the seventy-eight passageways of growth, this continuous cycle of change which will lead you to new opportunities that are just waiting to be explored. She brings you into the journey of intuition to connect with your higher-self (the whisperer). This journey is related to the time when you need to stop what you are doing and remain still so you can learn how to trust your instincts. You need to quiet the chatter in your mind to hear a message from the whisperer to understand a mystery, learn the direction you need to take, or to make a decision. A message will be revealed to you from your higher-self (the keeper of secrets, hidden wisdom and intuitive powers) to help you make the right decision. The higher-self holds secret knowledge that is stored in the subconscious waiting to be revealed to you through your intuition, dreams, hunches, gut feelings, prayers and meditations, but the higher-self absolutely needs ...

the echo resounds a nightly ritual give and take the supple force the music flows to break the night my mind, my thoughts dancing in the shadows searching for an anchor point.

yes, to say the  burning pyre ashes to ashes the turning fire embers projecting reflecting the mire break in the sound-- it leads to desire sifting through motions the senses to inspire gather the forces that passions require

The Guest House by Rumi This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.

the thread of time-- a net cast before us, woven by thought it diverges and converges, divides and unites strand by strand it weaves a web, malleable, discernible the perception of energy and emotion that makes a day all that different from the rest

the wee wee hours of the night locked in an embrace are the shadows and my dreams the distant echoes of a moon light up the room with their own light to sleep, to sleep, to craft a dream the dream of hearts, the dreams of love awake, alive yet in a slumber breaking my wakng peace asunder.