Eternal childhood –
with delicate demands…
No reflections have been gathered
in the same-hue gardens–
A journey
seems too physical
across the crossroad of bridges.

Arriving at your dusty
but light palette
my hand touches
an opposite crossroad of a garden overlooking
a single dimensional bench
by a gazebo.

There's a supreme sanctuary – so rare that a falling luminosity is fluid
and can be captured.
All of its changes
are layers of immaculacy gardening life
where each fragrant flower
I put into my hair is a butterfly.

Permanent maps of curly wind
challenge all lanterns.
Only Light could show me where I am
by throwing ropes of colored aroma
to impatient foliage.
Inside the light of a blossom the day never ends.

For some reason I can't wait
to be mixed up
into the chaste pigments of all experiences.
For some reason
I can't wait for the journey
which is the only way
to reach the Light.




In the new earth I believe there will be a place where each of us will be able to choose and create a sanctuary for worship. I believe that certain things will be somewhat similar to the earth and many things completely different. This is the garden and a mansion I would like to plant and build. In fact, the colors in the original painting are so unique and mysterious that it was almost impossible to reproduce them for the print reproduction.