Again, the season of Spring has come
And a spring-source rises under everything,
A moon sliding from the shadows.

Many things must be left unsaid, because it’s late,
But whatever conversation we haven’t had
Tonight, we’ll have tomorrow.

© Rumi

lost in a snow
frozen Moon

frozen Moon
traces of ink
in the old diaries

in the old diaries
waiting for the sunrise
unwritten pages

Linked to Carpe Diem #1393 Spring Is Coming


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You are getting old, aren’t you? Me, too, faster and faster. Somehow, this spring rain decided to water me, like a seed placed into the ground. I don’t rejoice too much, I have to say. I hope that I don’t sound too gloomy while I grumble looking for the colors in these March days.

We are what we see in others, I know. That’s why I wonder how may different worlds settled down inside of me. Is my heart so huge?

I try to figure out where the dreams go when the raindrops disperse them from the pillows. Maybe they just hide somewhere under the beds and wait for some other magical morning while we seek for them under the other’s coats. I dunno.

empty bowl
in a beggar’s hand
sky fills with tears

Linked to Carpe Diem #1389 Begging Bowl


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Set free
those words
on the top
of the lips
colored in
ripe apricot
Let them go
and wander
Let them collide
and melt with
all unpaired
who seek
for each other
under the stars

eyes closed
touch of the night
under the skin

Linked to Carpe Diem #1388 The Community Of The Spirit




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31203 (Crossroads)


ruž od tišine

nakon poljupca

Linked to Carpe Diem Crossroads #1 Introduction to a new feature and a first try


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An old lady died last night, someone’s mother and a grandmother. She was born in 1937 and that’s all I know about her. Seems it was enough for her to enter my life suddenly and introduce me to the Death.

My son asked me this morning if I ever saw a dead man.
“Yes”, I told, “I saw my grandmother”.
“How did she look like?”, he asked.
“Beautiful”, I said, “As beautiful as she always was.”
Maybe she wasn’t so pretty to others, but for me she was one of the most loveable being in my life.
“And I kissed her”, I told. “I kissed her as if she was alive.”
“Did you cry?”, he asked then.
“I did”, I said, “Of course, I did. I cried but since then I belive that we never die.”
“I believe”, he said, “that we born again and begin from the start. I watched some videos about kids who remember their past lives.”
We have never talked about those things before. I keep my believes for myself and never talk about them, for many reasons.
So I said: “You never know. Nobody knows. We all belive in what we like.”

My grandfather had his third heart attack many years ago, On December 12. It was my sister’s birthday. He had two clinical deaths during that day and they say that he was repeating some numbers all the time. He managed to stay alive until the midnight and left us just few minutes after December 13 has started. I believed that he was trying not to spoil her further birthdays and to prevent us, in advance, to remember his dead on every December 12.

The old lady wasn’t someone I knew before. I was standing in a waiting room with a close person who wasn’t feeling good last night and we were waiting for a doctor. Emergency car stopped in front of the door and they brought her on a mobile bed. Her face was gray, I knew she was ready to go. A female doctor that came with her begged her to stay alive, but the lady was calm as if she was ready to go. She already stopped her breathing on a way to the hospital, but she changed her mind. I’m writing this lines because I have never faced the death so close. Yes, I saw a dead men but at that moments the Death was never there. It was already gone. This time I felt it in a waiting room. And you know what? I don’t know how, but at that moment everything was so familiar to me. The lady, the doctor, lady’s grandson. It’s really hard to explain. I had a feeling that we have already met somewhere before. Maybe we did, I can’t tell. This morning I got an information that the lady passed away. I knew she would, I felt the calmnes in her presence. So strange. So, so strange.

as our ancestors
the same crossroads
we pass

Linked to Carpe Diem #1374 The Levant


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I have never visited many places that I write about and probably I never will, but that doesn’t make my dreams less powerful. If you don’t see Something, it doesn’t mean that Something doesn’t exist. If you think about a pineapple, for example, but you don’t hold it in your hand, do you know a taste of it? I do, and you?

tower of sand
if climb to the top
will I touch the sun?

Linked to Carpe Diem #1373 Syrian Desert (Southern Route)


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frozen lake ~
what a beauty
hidden inside

Linked to Carpe Diem #1371 Sansara (the cycle of life)


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Then all of a sudden everything calms down and life begins to return to normal. Maybe you’re still turning around a little, like a fan off. Never mind, it will pass at some point. Up there, on the tops of the mountains, you can see the snow but aren’t you happy waiting for the spring? And you no longer need anything. Except the air and a sound of the heartbeats.

clear sky
sleepy faces washed
with the winter wind

Linked to Carpe Diem #1370 Karakoram Mountains


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30602 – 2

Once upon a time, there was a love in bloom. Suddenly they got lost among the obstacles that life posed before them. He left her safe and took a long road to the mountains. He has never came back. She has never stopped waiting.

Unconditional love, they say.

There is a meadow, in bloom, and a few hills behind it. A path between them is narrow, wrapped and long. I know that there is a Kingdom behind the hills but my path melts into the snow and I can’t reach to the King.

I recite my verses aloud hoping that they can travel by the wind.

dreams carved
in wind

Linked to Carpe Diem #1364 Tian Shan Mountains (Northern route)


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30602 – 1

“A goal stood before Siddhartha, a single goal: to become empty, empty of thirst, empty of wishing, empty of dreams, empty of joy and sorrow. Dead to himself, not to be a self any more, to find tranquility with an emptied heard, to be open to miracles in unselfish thoughts, that was his goal.”

(Source: Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse)

“Empty?”, I thought while the familiar voices of the latest reality-show superstars were reaching from the neighboring room. Scars covered with powder and silicone breasts springing from a deep décolleté like the pears from a knitted basket. So many words said aloud and yet said nothing.

“What is emptiness?”, I asked myself aloud.

I turned off the lights and closed my eyes. Soothing tones through the eairphones dirfts me away. There, where nothing exist. There, where only in Emptiness you can meet yourself. There, where I give birth to all my miracles.

cold wind
bends the branches
~ stream of life

river keeps flowing

Linked to Carpe Diem #1363 Taklamakan Desert (the “Sea of Death”)(Northern route)



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