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Annotation

The poems in this collection were born not from events, but from states of being  from an inner space. This is a poetic journey through silence, love, memory, and time, where each encounter reveals itself not as chance, but as part of a higher design This book is an invitation to slow down, to contemplate, and to listen attentively to ones own soul.





  

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To my dear beloved husband Jostein M Hoddevik




 *Strings of Meditation


 

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Breath of Day

Breathing in the newborn day  dissolving in a smile,

The soul hastens to don its robe of sunlight

Stay, fleeting moment  stay!

How I long for you to linger

Yet the hidden purpose will not be undone,

And night will come again



 

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Mystery of Morning 

The morning, filled with a magic of sound,

Gently replenished the space inside.

In every dewdrop Love was reflected

And scattered threads of light.

The soul, filled with light, grew lighter,

Surrendering to the hush of stillness.

Then joy arose, like a reflection

In a slowly-falling crystal tear.



 

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Rhythm of Rain

Tonight, the world is tuned to the rhythm of rain.

The wind falls still, entranced by its refrain,

And the drops, leaving the skies behind,

Descend in a graceful dance  a fleeting tale.



Upon the windowpane, the hush deepens,

Raindrops slowly becoming tears.

Then, trembling, they catch a sudden ray of light

And slip below



  

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In the Fragrance of the Linden

Breathing in the fragrance of the linden, I lose my reason.

I have no need of it, not now and not here.

How sweet the air, how deep each breath becomes...

This is the hour to offer up a prayer.



The gates will opena song will begin to flow...

And words, like drops of honey...

I'll gather them all and pass them on to you

So that, in the fragrance of the linden,

We may quietly become one.





     

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TheWind

Along the masts the wind came running, then was lost...

It rocked the hull as though it meant to board the ship.

The silent shrouds awoke and drew taut

The ship became a lyre.



The music of its strings, as wild as the waves,

Yielded to the whisper of sand and the splash of spray

So the harbour sang, never completing its final phrase.

Then the wind fell still... And only...

An unseen listener remembered them.




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   ,     (https://www.litres.ru/book/tatyana-lukyanova-hoddevik/tikhii-svet-siuity-vnutrennego-prostranstva-74595807/)  .

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