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I would like to die as I have lived disappear among the tundra winds be transformed into birdsong.
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How about the one who searches so urgently he does not see anything else.
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The Arctic is a highway. The tree limit, the scarcity of trees, freed people to walk. Particularly in the wintertime. Which connected people physically, communicatively. And mythically. The long nights of winter free people to tell. And to listen.
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If it's worries you want the whole world is yours.
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I leave to arrive, go away to be closer.
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In the heart’s rain in the eye’s fog in the winter’s smoky snow in whirling snow in storms wind which wants to tear my coat off legends stories the blood red dawn of the mind the warm spring between your thighs the only haven
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In blue Light nature space the whole world, wide grazing land, the open spaces wind across the land and the sky, blue, high.
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For a long time I though that one had to accomplish something. Now I just watch, listen, receive. Live.
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Everything is so beautiful I am afraid to wake up again to the hard world.
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What is it the heart wants why are the thought crying.
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I leave now to return. Travel far to be close.
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Perhaps people only exist in my thoughts Perhaps the sky only exists in my mind. When will I wake up and to what