Supreme Sanctuary

Eternal childhood with delicate demands—

inside the light of a blossom the day never ends…

A journey seems too physical across the crossroad of bridges with no reflections.

Arriving at a dusty palette my hand touches a single dimensional bench by a gazebo.

There’s a supreme sanctuary—

so rare that a falling luminosity is fluid and can be captured.

All of its changes are layers of immaculacy gardening life

where each fragrant flower I put into my hair is a butterfly.

Only the Light could show me where I am

by throwing ropes of colored aroma to the impatient foliage.

For some reason I cannot wait to be mixed up

into the chased pigments of all experiences.

For some reason I cannot wait for the journey which is the only way to reach the Light.