a diary note

this morning i watched a tree and some birds above the sea. sometimes i do not know if i talk to the world only or if the world talks to me. when i was a child the world talked to me all the time and in many ways. now i got older, experienced collisions,fusion, grief and suffering. and off and on pain takes me out of the flow of the universe, keeps me locked and crystallizing in an unwelcome process of individuation. i am still the same, branded by the sign of aries on my forehead, wanting, fighting, throwing tempers and tempests, more often than not walking in a cloud of fire, wounds  and violence. i learnt to live with myself better than some around. and now, getting older, i feel the ground on which i walk getting thinner and thinner, and i know that i thrive on pure imagination. of course there is no reliable path at all, and escape is no option but a waste of energy. so  i keep on walking and inbetween i try to listen to the trees and the birds and  the wind and the rain.