At night,
The Spirit cluttered with puzzles,
failing to solve them
leave no respite to Morpheus,
appeared to rock him with his songs that plunges him into the limbo of the dream world.
As best they could,
The Spirit seeks to find the logical continuation of the problem,
forgetting that the more he persists the more it becomes complex.
He constantly rehashes all possibilities,
all possible paths to reach his goal.
Patience becomes a rare commodity that anxiety will replace in the search for the absolute solution.
One step forward
Two back
Never stop moving forward
Most of the time there are no answers to the questions!
The puzzle is created from scratch by the mind,
who him, to assemble the pieces of the equation,
referring to the attachment of the person,
his sensations,
his emotions,
his everyday experiences.
What happened, belongs to the past.
How to reconstitute identically a vase that broke into a thousand pieces?
We make a new one.
Well, even
The mind does not come to mind.
Always carrying with him his bag filled with riddles bound by the tight rope,
anxiety,
fear,
apprehension
doubt.
I often look at the sky,
The sky start his day on a blue background,
released the previous day's sentences,
run away from the warming veil of the sun,
hiding the stars and the moon,
guardians of light in the dark
The sky,
is often accompanied by several bags.
The clouds :
He introduces
his sorrows,
his pains,
his generative thoughts of bad times,
he puts all that hurt him.
His bag can not contain,
all his emotions without taking the risk of exploding.
Since then,
that the sky loses patience,
not to succeed in storing all his experiences,
nor find a solution to his puzzles,
He gives free rein to his drive.
Depression!
His blue adornment is darkened,
the clouds' white turns gray
hiding the jovial glow of the sun.
Hearing the sky growl,
the clouds are perforated,
one of the drops of rain gush from the openings,
created by the power of the sky.
The wind,
accentuates the speed of the droplets by its impetuous breath as to help the sky to free itself from its misfortune.
The rain once at the end of his journey,
seeps into the earth that spoils the sorrows of heaven.
He regained his calm,
his bags are empty,
the face of the sun is pointing the tip of its nose to feed the earth,
who will give life with the help of the tears of heaven.
It is only when the sky has freed itself from its thoughts that the earth can live.
It is so for the human when his mind is free of all thought, everything is possible to him again.
It is when we are NOTHING that we can become EVERYTHING.
La nuit venue,
L'Esprit encombré de casses-têtes,
n'arrivant pas a les résoudre
ne laisse nul répit a Morphée,
apparu pour le bercer de ses chants qui le plonge dans les limbes du monde onirique.
Tant bien que mal,
L'Esprit cherche a trouver la suite logique du problème,
oubliant que plus il s'acharne plus celui ci devient complexe.
Il ressasse sans cesse toutes les possibilités,
tous les cheminements possibles pour arriver a son but .
La patience devient une denrée rare que l'angoisse viendra remplacer dans la quête de la solution absolue.
Un pas en avant
Deux en arrière
Ne cesse d'aller de l'avant en marche arrière
La plupart du temps il n'existe pas de réponses aux questions!
Le casse-tête est créé de toute pièce par l'esprit,
qui lui, a assembler les morceaux de l' équation,
se référant a l'attachement de la personne,
ses sensations,
ses émotions,
ses expériences perçues au quotidien.
Ce qui est arrivé, appartient au passé.
Comment reconstituer à l’identique un vase qui s'est brisé en mille morceaux ?
On en fait un nouveau.
Tant bien même,
L'esprit ne se fait pas à l'idée.
Transportant toujours avec lui son sac rempli d' énigmes liées par la corde serrée,
de l'anxiété,
de la peur,
de l'appréhension
du doute.
Je regarde souvent le ciel,
lui débute sa journée sur un fond bleu,
libéré des peines de la veille,
enfuis derrière le voile réchauffant du soleil,
cachant les étoiles et la lune,
gardiennes de lumière dans l'obscurité
Le ciel,
est souvent accompagné de plusieurs sacs.
Les nuages :
Il y introduit,
ses peines,
ses douleurs,
ses pensées génératrices de mauvaise fois,
il y mets tous ce qui le blesse.
Son sac ne peut contenir,
toutes ses émotions sans prendre le risque d'exploser.
Dès lors,
que le ciel perd patience,
de ne pas réussir a emmagasiner toutes ses expériences ,
ni a trouver une solution à ses casses-têtes,
Il laisse libre cours à sa pulsion.
Dépression !
Sa parure bleu s’obscurcit,
le blanc des nuages vire au gris
cachant la lueur joviale du soleil.
Entendant le ciel gronder,
les nuages se perforent,
une a une des gouttes de pluie jaillissent des ouvertures,
crées par la puissance du ciel.
Le vent,
accentue la vitesse des gouttelettes par son souffle impétueux comme pour aider le ciel a se libérer de son malheur.
La pluie une fois à la fin de son périple,
s'infiltre dans la terre qui éponge les peines du ciel.
Lui a regagné son calme,
ses sacs sont vides,
le visage du soleil pointe le bout de son nez pour nourrir la terre,
qui elle donnera la vie avec l'aide des larmes du ciel.
Il n'est que quand le ciel s'est libéré de ses pensées que la terre peut vivre.
Il en ainsi pour l'humain quand son esprit est libre de toute pensée, tout lui est a nouveau possible.
C'est quand on est RIEN qu'on peu devenir TOUT.
Artwork made by Cameron Gray
https://catharsiopa.eu/
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