The Searcher came in search
To find messages from a multitude of hearts
White rose I picked up from the pavement
During my first departure
Air rose dipped in the red ink
Changing color
Making rhythms in a dark room I painted
Your face with a clean brush
Why are you here?
Searchers need not search in solitude
The Searcher found a home of belonging
A place where we are always unfolding >>> expanding >>> inventing
Never finished. Ever becoming : ■•° ~> ☆
ARE WE there yet? life is an orientation
in that sense also a search; for bliss, warmth, sensations, resonance.
We are the ones we are searching for.
What do you hope to find?
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