The illusion of I can’t
Evaporates into a gentle wind,
To become an inevitable I can.

And its box of reasons
Turn to wheel,
When the seed of want,
Is planted in the soil of passion.

Watered with
The feelings of wondering love,
And nourished by
The thoughts of creative imagination.

The bud of possibility
Finds a way through doubts,
It spreads courageous leaves too
That can seize the chance light.

Each period of development
It is a silent protest
Within the quiet words of boundaries,
At the same time, mute declaration
Of the unexplored capacities.

The map of the inner realm
Changes in numerous ways
The horizons that seemed remote
Now lie close to extended hands.

In the field of confidence,
Where “I can’t’ withers away,
Whereas “I can” grows
Into vast forests of endless becoming.

Filed under: 🜃 Infinite – exploring the unseen forces behind creation, truth, and existence.