Giving into the soul of surrender at the heart of its releasing

Creations begin to mold the noise

Closing in on the silence which transfers between the muted awareness, levels tripping, up and down

Hallucination feels like this

I am ready to speak into the wind, to hear the rush which my breath is fixated upon

It’s a season of grace and of faith where my trust is drawn on the clouds

With no blueprint or particular design  for there are no rules of architecture for a mansion in the clouds

I build with each faint movement of air – everything becomes interwoven with my focused stare