Sad night eyes look at me on butterfly wings.
A golden sky dawns over the harbor. Today the harbor is painted in orange and gold promising a shelter in winter storms to come.
The clouds herald a glorious day.
A land of shadows soon will be light.
Every morning the sun wins this battle.
The cork oak seems to carry the scars of this fight. Looking like a shadow monster in the dark and covering itself with the thick crust against the sun during the day.
Our path, is it an uphill battle, crisscrossing steep up the mountain and where does it lead to?
Do we need fury protection, not to dry out in this relentless baking sun?
Or do we juggle our existence like berries on thin twigs.
Are we busy like bees and do not notice the bigger picture.
Every day anew the light illuminates the crown of creation.
The mountain has millions of mandalas to meditate for those who are willing to see.
