There is no reality, there is your truth.
We live in a rainy world. That rain represents the stormy and overwhelming influx of stimuli that follow one after another like drops falling into the void.
There is no reality, we are the people who draw paper and pencil every day the reflection of life. For some that reflection will be artistic, creative, big, wonderful. For others it is just a struggle. A constant battle with great falls and uprisings if they proceed.
There are those who accept the rain and collect the most purified water. They move forward and feel day to day as growth. Others get depressed and move the storm outside to themselves.
A shower of stimuli. A rain of sensations. A drip of beliefs. Rain of successes and failures.
Fall beautiful leaf of the fallen tree! Pick me up with your grief in the grip of love and caress my being with your sweetness. Call me a princess with blond hair and hide me in them in front of the arrows of the world.
No no no! I tell myself. I will not give in to sorrow or hide under the shields of a wall. I will not be a pirate terrified in his hunt.
It's just a rain that falls on wet. On the puddles of our past conditioning. And the only thing that is in our hands is not to pick up indoors to let time pass and consume life, but to go out there and dance to the rhythm of the drops that hit the ground.
It is the joy of living, the joy of learning to perceive the world in all its splendor. With enthusiasm and without fear. Without fear even the cold of being soaked. Close your eyes, breathe deeply and get involved in the magic of nature. And when you open them again, feel the new creative empire that is the world.
Book poem: Wake up beauty
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