8 Quotes by Virgil Kalyana Mittata Iordache

When two souls stand on ice, it is easy to say which one is leading the movement and which one is following. The art of ice skating is that one is bound to fall, but nevertheless learn a lot more in the process, learn to rely on the other for balance until they can stand on their feet and skate as if touching the frozen past with a grace that doesn't allow it to affect them at all, for they no longer fall into the depths of it, but have already learned to float on its' surface.

If I could choose a gift, a blessing from a star,I'd choose the simple way to get into your heartI'd pick the words that heal your very hidden scarAnd turn my every feeling into a work of art.If I could pick you up, from deep down where you are,I'd raise you to the stars and to the moon aboveI'd take you for a walk in my unending world,And let your soul unfold, with every single word.

Words of an old soul's heart,Portrayal of the matrix artTo break from the illusionOf your continuous delusionNo chapter good or bad,Not happy, neither sad.Attachement to desire,The heart sparks inner fire.

The moment you realize that no matter how far away in the sea you look for the love you desire, it is impossible for you to reach it without exploring the deepness within, then you will either walk on the surface or sink deeply. The light will guide you nevertheless.

Flowing like water through the fires of life,Touching the earth through waves of lightReaching for air when you're tired to fightExtinguish the flames, you'll be alright

The warmth of summer, the richness of expansion that creates the perfect environment for a body that wants to feel at least the illusion of warmth on top of its' old persevering soul that dwells within. This season, I no longer try to reach for that external warmth, but rather pray to find that spark that could light me up from deep inside. I trust my intuition and I know it is near, if only my eyes wouldn't be blinded by the sun.

The Fall, a time when the illusion of the Maya fades away, a freedom from the identification with the illusory persona. For as the trees let go of their leaves to embrace the new season each year, there is no need to fight the shadows that form the illusion or the masks that form our egoic personas, but rather enjoy the illusion for what it is and find the freedom to accept and play a role outside of identification.

From the depths of silenceThe feeling rushes upA warrior of brightnessEmerging from the darkWith words of pure abandonment,A lust for emptiness, through artOf pure suffering and tormentThat sparks a beating heartA spark of light in darkness,And darkness be his light,When all is lost in numbnessSit still, no need to fight.