Red Earth with flute

Over the vast and bored stellar sun stays the hidden rain of the external touches of expanding oneself… Yes…there is the hidden temperature of the mirrors within and its derivations… How is sweet the “multiply-oneself” in the enchanted realm of lost oneself to oneself mind ….How is sweet the enchant of a cloud that transits those adjacent external skips, of new born star, of the relief breath… There is the chant of the mountain birds within and its wavy concaves of melted harmonic magma… How is sweet the hearing of the external volcano of those that sing since their concavities of high physical-mutant level…..How is sweet hearing the walking of the farthest storms of the sun within…The is the catastrophe , the radio, the receptacle of the fluorescent owl’s eyes friend ……… Sweet sun, sweet rain of the falls and the somersaults….how is magic the “entrails oneself” in the caves of incandescent gold within….how is incandescent the meeting of the non-found beings of the galaxy….. How is soothing the non-saying of the non-said words of the unexpected emerge oneself…. How is soothing the “inspire oneself” at the most relief expiring of exist… Wado