Creative journey

It starts with a vision

When the mind is still and nothing is expected Like a sudden cool breeze in the heat Like a fresh stream in the warm ocean water.

In a dream, walking in the forest, meditating Like a grace in the distraction It is not mine A whisper from a far source.

I cannot describe it Although it has a form I can feel it; see a bit, however misty.

It needs time and space; internal space Cannot rush Cannot try to hold Cannot try to understand It fades away if I grasp No desire. Hold still. Listen.

The right time comes And the image gets sharper Lenses of the heart From the heart to the hands.

I know the manifestation will never be the same whisper I’m grateful for being part of creation A human’s right The right to create and to forget It is not mine.