Ballad of the bike: From my desk

It's six o'clock in the afternoon: my bike rests in a corner. I spent the last days locked in this room, building a space, a shelter for me and my soul. Now, after many hours of work, I look at the library where my books lie, wooden table, the light illuminating me, the stand made by hand, pencil, notebooks, the chair that I borrowed the hall, cabinet and the cabinet where I keep, as if it were a treasure chest, things I use.

I have ridden this furniture slowly, carefully, putting all my soul in the process, as a craftsman, and I'm satisfied. I'm done.

This room will be much more than these four walls. This room will be from my kingdom and the world: a place where passionate, create and grow, the strength from which to fight for everything in what I believe.

I look out the window: a black bird, bright, has landed on the tree right in front there, and my soul rejoices and runs a dance with the bird, tree and wind.

From my table, the sky is a beautiful blue sky of emptiness. For a moment the world rests in the absolute perfection of a calm that knows eternity.

Cycling friend, from this table see the rain and snow land, behold sunrise and see the stars come out, go to the end of winter and see the new spring return. I will cross stations in this magical and mysterious universe in which I live and when you reach the end of all creation, I will return there full of experiences, all that is brought together on my journey. Something that may serve others.

My bike is smiling. The afternoon was fired with his best ray of light and night covers the sky. Slowly, like a quiet blessing, comes the dark. The bird is gone and the tree looks like a sleeping animal.

Breathe the silence and ending this day I recall the phrase that said: "A man is as big as his ideal, his project, his desire, his hope, his plan?.

? Angel Steps