Give This Man A Prize (Rough Mix)

Among my things I kept the names of God,
written on labels that spoke of light.
But the shadows, afraid to believe,
whispered that I should break them… and so I did as well.

Yet one remained, silent in the dimness,
it spoke to me in dreams, but never showed itself.

Oh, those shadows that cannot be seen,
they whisper to the wind, they pierce through my skin.

Each night I was losing a part of my voice,
there was a door I never knew how to open.
I was trapped in reproaches without end,
and a divine name was searching for me.

Every morning as I awoke,
I felt the visit of someone without a place.
In my dreams they came to speak,
but with open eyes, nothing I could recall.

One day I found it, almost by chance,
a label was resting beneath my bed.
It read “communication with the divine,”
and at night it guided me to distant lands.

In dreams I invoked both Mother and Father,
and the face of God spoke to me in the air.

What hides itself also keeps you company,
if you dare to name it before you sleep,
after a day when you wish to die.

Oh, those words that cannot be seen,
they whisper like the wind, they fill my being.
They shatter my ego, they stop the time,
and in dreams they tell me: “do not fear.”

Communicating with Goddess and God,
with Father and Mother in a single sun.
All contained within a single voice,
in the sacred label: the Name of God.
17 de agosto de 2025, 10:02 p.m.


In the morning, always upon waking

Water is the central metaphor for life's ungraspable nature - following hands attempt to cup flowing streams, while contemplating how wisdom lies not in grasping what cannot be contained but in learning to flow with life's constant changes. The art of holding water is actually the art of letting go.

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