How Does Jeff Hardy Work Out?

Inspirations and text mine. If playback to name the author. Thanks.

Stille Gänge

I have conquered this ancient wisdom from the book of the Vedas, which teaches that the deepest damage my soul, and all the pains I never suffered for it, you should only love that I'm tied with ties to the homeland, people and things. So bound to lose the meaning of life if I am without my little Eden. But when entangling vigorously break ties, reached the highest bliss. Instead of a corner, all the earth, instead of a single being, I love humanity. And free from the anxieties of me, I have only the supreme consciousness of the whole. I love the moss at my feet is extended, the light spring flower meadows, a drop of rain that wets the leaf, the hill looked infinitely expands. I love the morning of bird song, wind whistling riding the tops, language enables us to cover the unheard of to express the deepest. I love the fragrance of freshly mown grass, the whiff of wood carried by the winter wind, the scent of sweet wine that fills the cup. I love you to you, as if it were prescribed. When I rebelled against my limitations: I love ay! and I would not ambargo not loving. "If I did not love, I would not be nothing"

of Hedwig BORN (HEDI)

le vent nous porter

Fly like autumn leaves,

the wind takes us.

Rustle from one side to another life,

because you die and you are free.

Sleep in your sheets,

in yellow.

you drop,

you let go.

Your nakedness shows

the traces of time

are so bare

forward step for step.

Brindas harmony

in your various tones,

Just a moment

and the wind blows.

Vanesa Vera Vernhet

become as seed. return to bloom.

White flower

confuse you

songs from sunset.

frame colors you

Pure and clear.

In his hands

silent wheels,

may be your last day

still prefer

adding flavor of love.

Vanesa Vera Vernhet

Cumulatively, the saw from the outside. I was wondering why this time is that you gather between rainfall, as of August enero.Entre empty spaces of the vertebrae, at the minimum substance of the mind. Space as a cross between the seas, among the leaves that have lost their tree. In this tree that has been there, naked, without words.

The silence said it all. He was a distant reflection, an image invisible to myself.

last? The last of these drops.

see text and photo vanesa vernhet

The poet Agrimar l go to sea in order to become life.

text and photography

Vanesa Vera Vernhet