My fire never goes out...

It is impossible to escape the impression that people commonly use false standards of measurement - that they seek power for themselves and admire it in others, and that they underestimate what is of true value in life. But remember that forgiveness too is a power. To beg for it is a power, and to withhold or bestow it is a power, perhaps the greatest. Maybe none of this is about control. Maybe it isn't really about who can own whom, who can do what to whom and get away with it, even as far as death. Maybe it isn't about who can sit and who has to kneel or stand or lie down. Maybe it's about who can do what to whom and be forgiven for it. Never tell me it amounts to the same thing.

Power is power...

I rise from my scars...

Somewhere, tucked away in the vastness of it all, hidden between the horizon and the sea, there exists a world where you are loving the one that got away, where the words you never allowed yourself to say flow freely between your teeth. There exists a realm where you did things differently - where you chose the other path. Maybe you are happier there, though that is not the point, for maybe you aren't. Maybe, just maybe, despite circumstance, despite regret, you are exactly where you need to be. The only thing stopping you from realizing that is the way you whisper: what if?

A knife in my heart...

I was born of the ice and snow,

with the winter wolves, in the dark, alone.

The wildest night, I became the one,

and you'll know you're mine when the silence comes.

I rise from my scars, nothing hurts me now,

because power is power -

now watch me burn it down.

Old town road...

Take a shower. Wash away every trace of yesterday. Of smells. Of weary skin. Get dressed. Make coffee, windows open, the sun shining through. Hold the cup with two hands and notice that you feel the feeling of warmth. Now sit down and get to work. Keep your mind sharp, head on, eyes on the page and if small thoughts or worries fight their way into your consciousness: throw them off like fires in the night and keep your eyes on the track. Nothing but the task in front of you. Put on your shoes and take a long walk on open streets around people. Notice how they're all walking, in a hurry, or slowly. Smiling, laughing, or eyes straight forward, hurried to get to wherever they're going. And notice how you're just one of them. Not more, not less. Find comfort in the way you're just one in the crowd. Your worries: no more, no less.

Go back home. Take the long way just to not pass the liquor store. Go straight home. Take off your shoes. Wash your hands. Your face. Notice the silence. Notice your heart. It's still beating. Still fighting. Now get back to work. Work with your mind sharp and eyes focused and if any thoughts of worries or hate or sadness creep their way around, shake them off like a runner in the night for you own your mind, and you need to tame it. Focus. Keep it sharp on track, nothing but the task in front of you. Work until your eyes are tired and head is heavy, and keep working even after that. Then take a shower, wash off the day. Drink a glass of water. Make the room dark. Lie down and close your eyes. Notice the silence. Notice your heart. Still beating. Still fighting. You made it, after all. You made it, another day. And you can make it one more. You're doing just fine.

Expect me to know how to swim...

Taking my horse to the old town...

Tin cat at my feet...

There are times to stay put, and what you want will come to you, and there are times to go out into the world and find such a thing for yourself. The hard part is to distinguish between those times, because waiting and hoping is a hard thing to do when you've already been waiting and hoping for almost as long as you can bear it. Yet at moments like this I try to remember one piece of advice she gave me long ago; don't get impatient my dear boy. Even if things are so tangled up you can't do anything, don't get desperate or blow a fuse and start yanking on one particular thread before it's ready to come undone. You have to realize it's going to be a long process and that you'll work on things slowly, one step at a time. One day at a time.

Going bad...

I think I may have stumbled upon a path with no return. At least that's how it feels like - not really being sure how I got here ... or why ... or if possibly I got exactly what I wanted, not realizing it wasn't what I actually needed. But maybe this situation is something necessary to finally propel me towards a more certain future. For it is often through the gift of becoming undone, being in a situation that's way over our heads, that we can understand our life's purpose the clearest, especially how we can use our individuality to mend our undoing through a vision that better matches the potential of the universe.

The messenger and the runner...

Oh I beg you, can I follow?

Oh I ask you, why not always?

Be the ocean, where I unravel,

be my only, be the water where I'm wading.

You're my river running high -

run deep, run wild.

His anathema and benediction...

He said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it - namely, that in order to make a man covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain.

When we start being too impressed by the results of our work, we slowly come to the erroneous conviction that life is one large scoreboard where someone is listing the points to measure our worth. And before we are fully aware of it, we have sold our soul to the many grade-givers, and allowed ourselves to become a pawn in their game. We become what the world makes us. We are intelligent because someone gives us a high grade. We are helpful because someone says thanks. We are likable because someone likes us. And we are important because someone considers us indispensable. So how does one break the wheel? How does one be free of the shackles which bind us to an uncertain existence? How does one not become a slave?

This boy needs a ladder...

Life will be the death of me...

I have decided to share some part of my story, of what led me here. A past, which changed my perception of the world. A past, which shaped my future into an unknown yet exciting opportunity to revisit lost thoughts and to break free from the limbo of my broken dreams. When the moment of my past struck me, in its highest demonised form, I felt dead, like walking in flesh without a soul, someone who had no reason to live - not anymore. I no longer saw any meaning in life, but then again, I saw no reason to die as well. I travelled to far away lands, running away from friends, family and everyone else and I confined myself to my thoughts, to my feelings and to myself. Hours, days, weeks and months passed and I waited for a moment of magic to happen, a turn of destiny. But nothing happened, nothing ever happened. I waited and I counted each moment, thinking about my life. I then saw how powerful yet weak, bright yet dark, beautiful yet ugly, joyous yet grievous; is one single moment. One moment makes the difference. Just one moment.

Keep it moving in a forward motion...

My explosion of karma...

I've never really understood the saying that when it rains, it pours ... until today. And boy was it a doozy. I can still feel my mind trembling from over stimulation. From being completely overwhelmed by the majesty of life. Because you see, situations seem to happen to people, but in reality, they unfold from deeper universal causes. The universe collapses into itself, bringing to bear any source that needs to be included. Don't take this process personally, for the working out of cause and effect is eternal. We are part of this rising and falling that never ends, and only by riding the wave can you ensure that the waves don't drown you. The ego takes everything personally, leaving no room for higher guidance or purpose. If you can, realize that a cosmic plan is unfolding and appreciate the incredibly woven tapestry for what it is - a design of unparalleled marvel.

All I have...

Solza padla je na list A4 formata,

kaplja dala je vtis, da je časovna potrata.

In zdej debata sama s sabo,

kaj narobe je z mano? 

Da vsako emocijo, 

imam zapisano in prebrano.

In ko pesnim v glavi, 

vse ponovno zaigrano, 

poslikano, okvirjeno, 

v spominih pokopano.

Pišem in pišem, 

da si izklopim realnost. 

Pomoč ne iščem ne iščem, 

ker mam za to ustvarjalnost.