Like the ink in my skin cannot be washed away and reminds me to root my dreams in reality
So the sound of falling rain was this morning only a dream
As I watered my garden calling and anticipating her comfort
The few drops earlier
Rooted the dream now falling loudly
Onto the roof of my house
In beautiful succession from the thunder...
Surely as my tattoo will not wash away
And the moon spends her last quarter
To become new so the rain will not stay away
And I will dream and let my dreams grow into reality...

Better fortidude
Deep into the emotions of the urban night
The silent blooms break
 Into the moonlight with warm scented breaths
Significantly different in every perfect petal
I fall in love

Forsaken of thought

And welcomed by fire

After the pain of the splitting seed

Roots shed their shell and tap into the source

Fairy grass lights up the veld.

Last night the hael battered
onto the tin roof
like stones from the sky
Thunder ripped though the dark heavans
Deep in the night the rain started falling steadily
 and this morning it was still falling
Tonight the rising river sharply
Enchants our senses

The ramifications of morning light
Sets the spring breeze ablaze

The last winter idols are quickly perishing
And the new roots shoot deep beneath the surface

Light receptors increase their harvest area

The crisp white light flickers like crystals

In the juvenile plum leaf canopy
As the wind breaks the glass surface.

Dreams fall silent
As reality sprouts into being.
Unfolding each petal
With passionate grace.
Light curls her open
From the inside out.

Cyrtranthus falcatus

Spring is blooming in magical colours from blue to white and right into the deepest shade of pink.
Dreams are rooted in the colour of ink and flowers in the colour of soul as our roots transcend the dust that it came from...