A formless lightbody drifts,
its movement etched by laws more ancient than understanding.
Every trace it leaves belongs to a deeper order,
a logic of the cosmos I have yet to grasp—
I’ve only tasted the edge of its glow.

In myth, there lies a hidden core:
a way the universe breathes,
where all beings—creatures, humans, deities—
are held in the same trembling constellation.
The stars stretch wide,
the forest nourishes,
rivers soothe the earth
and cleanse the spirit when it tilts out of balance.

Nature is alive with spirit.
It must not be used at whim.

The heart will tell you.
The heart will tell you.
Feel the wetness in the soil,
and the fear it remembers.

After death, the lightbody continues—
its wandering does not end.
Your task continues.
Go now. Go.

You said you wouldn’t look back.
But being human,
we always do.

Still, you will find the threads of life.
You will know what you were sent to do.
Chants and ritual dances shape the path of spirit.
Open it.
It takes time.

Stay with the pain—
that is where the rarest nutrients
in the garden of flowering sorrow reside.
Collapse, re-form,
listen sincerely,
enter silence.
Come closer
to the quiet center of your own heart.

Bury the seed.
Keep walking.

Joyu 21/10/2025 Italy