Yearly Archives: 2009

In the distance shadows play

In the dis­tance shad­ows play, orig­i­nally uploaded by Thorsten Becker. Sun­set in the city In the dis­tance shad­ows play Upon brick and stone © Thorsten Becker

Upon forest floor

Upon for­est floor, orig­i­nally uploaded by Thorsten Becker. Here is where I see, here is where I am, here is where I feel the clos­est to earthen realm. Here is where my roots reach deep, where no con­crete pum­mels my feet. Here is where I can be all I can be, free from asphalt and

It has been some time

Idyl­lic times, orig­i­nally uploaded by Thorsten Becker. Some time has passed since I last wrote on my blog as I was tak­ing an inspi­ra­tional break. Now that I felt it was time again to con­tinue I thought about all the many things time is and does even though it is nei­ther an entity nor a

Urban Jewel

Urban Jewel, orig­i­nally uploaded by Thorsten Becker. What have we done to our dwelling places Our liv­ing spaces? Where has all the beauty gone? Gone Stripped away with­out any traces Blank facades like blank stares on blank faces No expres­sions, no desire, noth­ing to admire, hol­low egres­sions From which we emerge, from which we come

On the other side

On the other side, orig­i­nally uploaded by Thorsten Becker. On the other side There is a light On the other side That’s where it’s bright On the other side There is much delight I can smell the ocean breeze Com­ing through with such ease I can feel the sun­shine warm and ten­der Touch­ing my face

The white tower

The white tower, orig­i­nally uploaded by Thorsten Becker. Mer­cury cold light Flow­ing from the white tower Encases my soul Rest­less, motion­less Heart beats, mind retreats, eyes shut Eter­nity, born Sweet noises trickle Gen­tle music of the stars Here it all begins © Thorsten Becker Inspired by Andreas Vollenweider’s “White Winds” album. It was the cover of this

The smell of wet spruce

The smell of wet spruce, orig­i­nally uploaded by Thorsten Becker. Air so fra­grant fresh The smell of wet spruce lingers After sud­den rain © Thorsten Becker