There is a path
That takes you home.

Crossing the fields
Where many before you
Used for a while.

Here, pink and violet petals
Colour at spring
And green and yellow strokes
Make a wider ring.

Over the bush lines
Houses rise and fall
Where some tall pines
Used to be tall.

But the path goes on
And is never still.

Before it looked as a ladder
Going to the top
But on the path saddle
The view was getting cropped.

So you stop looking a way
And you start enjoying the ride
And it more it gives you a sway
For fun, you make it stride.

And the path is taking you home
This is all I know from my side.
And I enjoy to see it bright.

Since smiling is free
And it comes with no burden
The only apparent fee
Is to know how to do it often.

I lived in a house of despair
One where smile did not enter
Or where it was very rare
To come in that house center

How could I invite smile to stay in
If my house was so poor
Made of bricks and thin tin?

I know now this was a lure
That I decided to win
Through being more often pure.

Life is so quick
Like a burning log
Burning very thick
Making intense fog

And finally it passes
As an end of show
Turning into ashes
And swept by a blow.

To love we need to know
We need to pass the door of knowledge.
And that door is not open to anyone:
We can only pass beyond where we are welcome.
Until then it's only supposition.

We also need the courage to love.
To pass the Unknown limits.
An adventure that is only possible following our intuition...
Let's be frank: we cannot love everything we want,
We need to find the right key to our own doors.

Love and knowledge are thus bound.
Such as reciprocal will.
At the extent of possibility love is rare
And therefore it is also a miracle.

Love is also a portal of magical feelings.
A sentiment of admiration and irresistible craving.
True and superior love go even beyond that,
Surpassing our own intentions in benefit of a higher love.

"Love hurts", we all know that.
But at some point we all need to be hurt
And staging our hurt feelings for an unprecedent love.

The love we have with ourselves
A self love that revolves
Made of deep connection with knowledge
And unites for greater love.

For the things I have been complaining
Because I have not found real joy
I know they are meaningless

The joy cannot be found searching
There is nothing to seek

All I crave I have already
Nothing has been taken
From the starry skies.

Because we own nothing in this world
I shall say goodbye.
Firstly, to things I love
Secondly, to the worryness.

So that free from possession
Of things that ultimately are not mine
I can love them much more
And worry much less

Trusting that I can give
Without taking from tomorrow
And being more whole
Without sorrow.