Notes on a Finnish Mystic

Paraphrase from a spiritual friend

The small hours are my home

Silence begs inward like a calming breeze

There is no stress around, only connection

 

Like little stars of hope hugging me

I am the I-love-you-s of a satisfied horizon

A future that blames the world for nothing!

 

It is a flame that scoops up memories

And transforms them into the perfume of faith

The small hours are my last stand of gladness

 

I walk in them with a new mind

A language that dwells on inner beauty and unity

All the words just slip to the side

 

For the feeling of a true masterpiece

The identity-thrill behind each life

Silence is the condition of empathy

 

Purity is the reminiscence of compassion

The contradictions within a lesser work prevent this

But I am completely at home in ambiguity.  

Reviews

[Kenneth The Poet]

A set of sentiments of meant to be universal.

[Seshat Nidaba]

Yes I'm going to keep Seshat for that.