Fire festival of chahar shanbe souri

Flaming cycle of forms never ends. It is evolving with the movement toward the truth, because the truth is reforming with changes of concepts that create all forms in our mind.

There is no form outside. Forms are just a crashing unstable bridge of mind linking mankind to the mother earth, father sky; a noisy, uncertain medium between internal and external butterflies. We smell the reality by our mind. We mine it by our mind, filter it by our mind and choose just a bit of it by our mind.

Fire is untouchable. An uncatchable nostalgic image of heaven that we can just stare to its transforming shadows from far far away and wonder with wide open eyes knocked out by mighty echoes of flaming punches.

Life is an endless motion. Truth is an unexpected momentary lightening of gray emotions resulted by our motion. When you identify yourself in the messy bunch of colorful forms around. When the scary debate of concepts stops with the cracking sound of silence and suddenly you find yourself floating weightless in the infinite horizon of noting; no form, no shape, full of emptiness. Just the soft crystalline breeze of awareness smiles at you and invites you passionately to dance with her in the eternal moonlight, naked, pure, animal.

I am sick of doubt.

Let's fly and fade in this starless dawn. I want to make love with two angels in the sky. One is blond, the other is dark.

Come on, I show you good time. Give me your burning hand of red shine and I give you the yellow kiss of my blue thoughts. We can be a coral song, a united whisper in a black hopeless night.

Let's drown in the ocean of time. Let's go down and down to be eaten by the green submarine of our ego child.

Come on...