The spring never feels too early.

But snow has once more covered the earth and the freezing wind blows through me,
days when the air is supposed to be softer and calmer,
supposed to caress my bare hands opened up to the sky.

I can’t wait to feel the warmth of the sun that spiralizes throughout the darkness,
and I look up into the sky,
imagining what lies ahead.

I hold my breath, waiting to catch the sunshine on my palms,
longing it to breathe life through my lungs and heart again.

My body has been hibernating throughout the darkness while releasing old wounds,
hoping to catch the light, feeling alive again,
ridden of elemental grief and sadness,
moving on through the journey of murky waters
that on the darkest days doesn't seem to lead anywhere.

I am going through again and again,
crying for my creativity, my dreams, my feeling of being alive,

never feeling comfortable with what seems never ending,
the heart wrenching sorrow, doubts and tears

and finally I reach a space where I can rest for a while before feeling all of that again until it is gone,

or is it ever really during this lifetime?

Can I ever let go of completely, 
when the sounds, words and feelings of what has been are always reminding me.

And eventually I feel it through all of my senses,
child of the sun,
always waiting for the first spring day.

Sounds are echoing through time differently,
and when I close my eyes the warmth on my face feels different.

There is a change in the air and the wind feels softer,
dark days of the winter are slowly abandoning my bones,
giving way to new life,

and I start to call back my spirit.

I always fear that everything has slipped away from me into the nothingness
and that I can’t shed the darkness,

but when I start to listen,
there are dreams that flow within me like deep  underwater currents,
I know that they exist
but they can’t be reached with my mind or seen with my eyes,
they need to be caught with my heart. 

And the rare moments when rays of light, when reaching that world in a right angle,
will illuminate a subtle knowing for a moment,
and then life passes by again and the moment is gone.

And I sit still,
waiting to be blessed once more
with that knowing, that light, that feeling
of being alive. 


The melancholy that travels with me during the dark and fathomless months of winter and thrives in coldness and isolation captivates the old stories and feelings and traps them deep down in my body and bones. Stories of moments and feelings that weren’t recognised, acknowledged or really seen.

There are days when they try to catch my attention by filling my lungs with dull sadness,
on other days the only thing I want to do is to unravel the emptiness from my heart to get rid of the pain.

“You shouldn’t have been left alone.” 
“It must have been hard.” 
“There should have been someone there with you.”
"I see you."

Just like that, hearing those words from someone else who has given you enough space to share your story, moments you have carried with you for years often dissolve into nothingness,
like raindrops when they touch the concrete and turn into stars, 

and suddenly you feel a bit lighter.

There are stories that need only your own acknowledgement and can be released from your body when you write them down,
watch how they burn, turn into dust and stop existing.

Some of the stories you carry with you no matter wherever you go and whatever you do.
You can’t release those before the time is right, no matter how hard you try,
because maybe there’s still something you need to learn from them
and until that realisation they will travel with you. 

Letting go doesn’t happen in a linear timeline and there is always more layers to shed. 

There are also days when there is not room for thoughts anymore,
just thousands of beginnings that don’t seem to lead anywhere and are hard to grasp when you can’t stay still without waves of anxiety washing over you. 

Sometimes you are not even sure what stories you are carrying with you before you hear them from someone else who has gained a glimpse of your soul and acknowledges the pain you couldn’t put into words. 

And then there are those moments when you recognise your stories mirrored back to you from someone else’s eyes.

Letting go of the stories makes me afraid that I am suddenly naked without any protection,
so rather than letting go
I would rather keep them hidden.

But if left unacknowledged those stories always grow and gain power,
and the open space is filled with deeper sadness, frustration, anger, guilt and shame.

And eventually on some day, without forcing,
the time will be right and those stories come grumbling down,
one by one,
word after another, 
and I will make a wish:

may I be 

open to see with my heart,
rooted in my spirit,
grounded into my center,
acknowledging with compassion what once has been,

may I have enough courage

to reach out for support,
to dream my own dreams,
witnessing the shadowlands with love and acceptance,
willing to feel the sunshine after traveling in the darkness while searching for the meaning,

and may I feel

safe wherever I choose to rest,
safe enough to be me without the stories I tell.

Letting Go

The path of releasing and letting go spirals through the bleak landscape of darkness, 
and once more
I am lost where the time has stood still for years, 
wandering endlessly in the deceptive corridors of the past,
trying to catch the light, 
and once more
I am living through the feelings I couldn't escape. 

letting go

I stand mesmerised between the past and present, 
watching the streams of life in every shade of color
passing by my eyes, 

while still
a part of me is trapped
into expectations of perfection,
into something that once was,
into illusions that prevent my spirit to fly free in this moment. 

Over and over again I breathe deeply
and gather the pieces of broken dreams from the floor
that feels cold under my feet before the dawn.

And I see it clearly now,
letting go can’t happen without forgiveness
and it can’t be forced,
it can only happen when the heart is open enough
to receive the truth
of what has been revealed.

It's time,
to walk through again,
to root in quietness,
to fly free
and trust that when the time is right

I will paint with light again.

With light that doesn't need to get caught, 
light that can't be extinguished,
light that radiates from within.


She was a wanderer of several worlds, weaving together reality and dreams, all intertwined and simultaneously existing.  Surrounded by urban sea of lights she listened to the distant voices that were mellowed by the velvety night air and inhaled the inspiration from the city that never slept, hoping to catch a drop of perfection between the moments. How would it feel to hold a breeze of magic on her palm before the time would move faster again. 


In the harsh daylight the cacophony of the city hit her senses so hard that she felt torn apart and was gasping for fresh air. She just wanted to close her eyes and scream the world away.

And she dreamt about the earth that grounded her and filled her lungs and heart with calmness and soft words of the knowing that everything was constantly shifting and changing and none of the impressions wouldn’t last forever.

She traveled back to the forest where the golden light shifted through the branches, changing into reflections and shades of green, flickering and dancing like whispers of ancient secrets. She felt the grass that glimmered in the morning dew under her feet and absorbed the energy that enabled the deep connection with all that is.

She wanted to be one with the beat, synchronizing the tingling life energy with her body, dreaming about the open roads of her childhood where the scenery was passing by and deepening emerald greens, burnt sienna, soft and vivid yellows were blurring into different shades of oranges, reflecting the fields of indian summer, calmness and softness in the air and mind, nurturing the soul. 

Burnt into her retina, impressions to reminisce when the days would get shorter than nights and she would realise that the warm breeze had once more turned into drops of water falling on the windows and coldness would find its way deep within, making a home into her bones and resting there through the winter.

Let The Light


Profound sorrow etched on my soul
in the rooms of melancholy where the spirals of yesterday’s dust
still linger around in the dark corners
and embrace the shadows of the fear of being and feeling alive.

They say that you are not your feelings,
not the roles
you identify yourself with,

masks you wear because you are
running away from feeling
your truth
still buried
under false identities in your visible horizon

the light clouded by your expectations,
unveiled by your trust.

Take off your shoes,
feel the earth breathing under your feet, wisdom circulating through your being.

The radiant sound of your soul
will be freed up into the air
when you stop
fighting against the intuition and release your armour.

Stop running away from the heartbeat of your soul.

New lines have been sketched already,
only waiting to be seen with your heart.

Blue Moment


Wanderer in the dark, dreamer of the night.

Chasing down the perfect beat.

Close your eyes to see,
to the tales of the trees and wisdom of the earth.

Journey through the seasons of your being.
Nurture and rest.
Release and heal.
Root your feet to the ground.

Free your awareness and sense the renewing light of January.

Blue moment, snapshot of deep healing and peace.
Breathe through your fears, release the pain.

Captured in quietness and ease,
let go, let go already of the race.

You don’t need to run anymore.


New beginnings,
the freedom you yearned has turned into another doubt
as you are still dragging your expectations and ideals with you that weigh you down
and make you unable to see the opportunities of the present moment.

Hiding in the shadows of the walls you have built around you for protection from your fears and anxiety.
Refusing to get out into the world feeling like a misfit,
not being good enough to be heard, as your doubts will follow you no matter where you go
even though you have tried so hard
to shed them.

Worlds, and friends lost in the distant past.
Not because what you have decided but what has just naturally happened.
Not feeling like being seen or being strong enough
when you try to take steps to move forward.

Lost with the meaning of the words,
and meaning of belonging.

Paralyzed, trying to find a community and some sense into this current reality
that doesn’t feel like yours anymore.

Lost now,
or just wandering in the continuous loop of survival instead of thriving?

When and where do yo really find yourself when you have been stripped bare.
Not feeling like belonging,
forced to finally look inside without getting any answers.

What do you really believe in, what moves you?
How will you face the difficulties,
how do you get up and continue the journey from day after day,
do you know who you are anymore?

Are you still willing to go, see and learn?
Start from the beginning?
Building your new reality, not knowing if it ever will be enough for you
as your mind wanders from past to the future.

It’s the only way to go through
as you have cut loose all the strings that hold you in the past.
With no help, what will open up to you
when you really accept everything
as it is
without expectations?

What will define you, your future, what’s the real reason for you to live?
Are you courageous enough to define your world,
your new way of being,
and belonging.

Finding your peace no matter where you are.
The only thing that persist is the possibility for growth,
and learning.


Originally published on Glowing Balance.