My Presentation
My own world
My little family
The best in history
The most beautiful always
According to Paulo Coelho,
he states that the soul of the universe is nourished by the happiness of humans, or by their suffering, desires, and instincts.
And I say:
We are a part of the universe, the universe expands within us, and the universe extends into your inner self. We are like planets within galaxies.
“You don’t know me, and I don’t know you; we meet in dimensions we do not comprehend.”
We exist as thoughts, intertwined with stars shining in the depths of our existence, with veils of secrets enveloping truths, and a gleam emanating from luminous desires, and dust covering dreams that never sleep.
You might feel that you know me, and I believe in that, but the truth lies in the fact that we are entities that do not know contraction but constantly expand in these boundless dimensions.
We unfold our desires gradually, laying out a path for them, yet no one comprehends them. We hide our dreams as if we fear expressing them, suspending them in a cloud and releasing them into the expanse of the sky. Even happiness retains its depths, and we see it only through the colored shells.
As for sorrow, most of those who think they know you truly do not understand you. The universe resembles these intricacies: we touch only the surface and conceal the depths of secrets. We fear to dream, and we dream of things we dare not disclose.
One day, when we unveil ourselves, we will discover the extent of the sorrow left behind by awareness. We mourn the nakedness of our souls before others.
You think you know me, but I truly remain unknown to myself. I smile in your face and cry afterward, cry and still smile with you. You might think I have no dreams or desires. Here I am, spreading out my dreams and sleeping on them, and with each morning, we walk through our reality and then another reality.
You might feel with me that emotions do not matter to me, that I am confined within them, a constrained and naive journey. It is akin to loving you and not loving you, writing to you and as if I am not writing to you. My disappointment becomes my dream, and my desire is carried on the wings of the sky
No one knows us, except one, one. I am a universe, and you are a universe, and here we are expanding within the intricacies.
Defalo.
