Layers upon layers

Layers upon layers
of thoughts and memories and emotions.
We are wrapped in layers like onions.
One by one they stack upon us from childhood,
and as adult we strive to take them off.

I want to get rid of those heavy layers.
The ones of the past that weight on my back,
that impede me from dancing freely
and laughing like a child.
It is so easy to say that the past is gone,
you need a generous environment
or emptiness, for it to be so.

Emptiness.
It seems easier as it requires no one to lean on.
Emptiness holds no expectations.
Maybe that is why I seek silence
and the poetry of the ancients.
Maybe that is why I shun the complex
and the superfluous.

There is no wisdom in my words,
just the perpetual questioning
of how to find tranquility of the heart
in a world that too often remains incomprehensible.

Kenza.

I read the poetry of hermits

I read the poetry of hermits.
Pretending to be alone,
absent from this world
that is but a bowl filled with twirling dust.
Happiness is fleeting, love even more so.
Pursuing them, we trap ourselves
going around and around inside the bowl.
Better to just float about
and settle on a flower
just as its bloom retrieves into a bud-
effortlessly, joyfully,
returning to the origin.
I read the poetry of hermits.

Kenza.

1-XI

With a slight chill
the wind picked up.
Unexpectedly,
darker clouds filled the sky.
A few drops of rain fell.
The wind picked up some more
sending all the clouds away.
The sky returned to its deep blue.
The sun warmed my soul once more,
erasing its autumn melancholy.

Kenza.