Melancholia I by Albrecht Dürer Brave acts make a difference, love heals, compassion annihilates suffering, sincerity leads to all hearts, and benevolence crosses all borders. (Tilted Rotten Sky, Rayka Rush) Freedom is the highest human expression of existence. It is a profound sense of autonomy, a feeling that we are the masters of our future paths. In the Western culture, art is the highest expression of inner freedom. It is a similar experience as breaking the ego shell in Buddhism, or getting in touch with the world of spirits relevant for Shamanism. Freedom is not what is outside of us, but within, and it is the finest expression of life that manifests who we are. Any mastery, knowledge, true activism, sincere endeavors, compassion constitute the art of being human. Let's create new freedom realities! This blog is an addition to the new growing mind awareness: expressing ourselves through arts, essays, prose, or discussing topics with an attempt to bring some interdisciplinary and alternative approaches to expand the knowledge and our consciousness. This includes the “new science” that moved from the traditional mechanistic picture of the world to the interdependent world of energies. Welcome to the Pathless Streams of Freedom Presence blog, read and comment poetry, essays, and follow our inspiring sources offered with this interactive blog.

Latest Posts

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Frozen Rose: In a Style of Ecstatic Epilepsy

I’ve dreamed myself to death; Too many times polished aura Of that imagined kiss bloomed in a plethora of a flower memory seen in a staccato spin as the union of past and present places and things, or as a lucid dream, where staged we’ve been in déjà vu monochrome screen while passing out in…


How Is It To Be Free? by Dark Lady

How is it to be free, while caught in a dance of an erratic prairie wind storm that hurls dust into eyes? I see thee passing in a glimpse of a lost sonnet rhyme flaring torn with gust. Love flies boundless, but bends heavy once signed With houses and loans set apart from hearts; How…


Cracking the Dawn of My Mind

Have you been the one who cracked the last night a golden gate of a dawn with random flashes and lit a storm of memories blossoming in sweaty unrest a flower in the middle of my mind spiced with a sweet smell turning dark into a daydream nectar? Feed me with breaded hopes fatty like…

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Resistance to “Road Movie” Soliloquy

I. “Mata Hari” Focus camera on my lustrous bare skin, Don’t hesitate, strip “Mata Hari,” Make the end treacherous; Could you, please be, fast? I am cold. Playing dead in a minimal Amazonian suit for hours! Finish the last scene! Cut it now, that’s it! Don’t wait, decide on this close-up; You’ll see, this is…