Sphere of bliss
The mental garden adored by the self of soul to see,
by wisdom withered like the lingering tree.
Dew full silent shimmering green,
night’s moisture bathing air in naked keen.
Lipping flowers in sweet seduction,
glooming in shy perfection.
Fragrances speak the appetite for life,
when time reveals character by its light of strive.
Rapture by the bliss of being part,
celestial conduct shines in that whispering art.
Loving beauty is worship at will,
wisdoms mirror reflect that firmament of still.
The living sound beyond times of death,
faith belongs to that sphere of all beneath.
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fearlessstars
https://robertrittel.blogspot.com Living virtualistic through myself. The road I wanted to follow choose me and I can see the cosmos to know itself. I remember only moments where my actions manifested the belief of my passion, choosing my next universe through what I have learned in this one. My fears got lost in dreams, sensing what needed to be done with no thinking. I believe in fairy tales, especially with dragons and how to tame them. I do not need any strange faith to worship that celestial brilliance. Dismissing everything what insults my soul and faithful in those small things, because it is in them where our strength is.
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