Seventh month is the month is Singapore where people remember the dead and give offerings. It is said that on the seventh lunar month, the gates of hell open and the ghosts are free to return and roam the earth. Also known as Zhong Yuan Jie 中元节.
This drawing is dedicated to my neighbour that sadly decided to leave this world at a young age.
I paste my artwork on the wall outside my house But you are not here to share it with me, when you walk down the corridor. Its the seventh month, but i can’t feel any ghosts, only light. I almost died But you actually died In all my years rooftopping i never fell. If it is a matter of luck, we could trade places. Maybe if my artwork had been on the wall sooner, we might have talked and said hello. I don’t understand, in my life i met so many people to help, But i didn’t know you. The Gods gave us different paths, even though we live on the same floor. Standing above a city of lights, I have landed. You have landed as well. Hopefully somewhere better. I will pray for you. This drawing is for us. You’re dead I’m alive. We can look at the lights of the city together From the floor we live on.
Wu wei, wu wei It is whispered to us gently. We have to let go, in order to kick We have to release, in order to achieve. Balance is perfect symmetry with the universe We are one, but in one-we are many.
In the eaves of night, A full moon illuminates chance, A scroll unrolled, The words of life and death tumble and fall. God shines brighter than the moon, Walking soundlessly in a garden That no longer can be found Am i waiting for you Or are you waiting for me
You know we all have those difficult and hard days, where nothing seems to go right and we just feel so down.
God is on our side, always. Even if you don’t believe in God-he believes in you. Even if he has to wait till the end of time for you to recover and regain your former strength, he has the patience to do so. We are all one and drawing him reminds us so.
God comforting me, and listening to the angels talking. Sometimes i hear a group of angels talking to me in my head. God is saying Hey it’s ok
I saw this angel of light in my mind. It lit up my space and my home. It is the Archangel Michael. Angels are blind to me. Their eyes are blinding light. They radiate God’s blinding light. They have no need to see. They feel good and evil as an undercurrent and they deal with it accordingly, according to God’s wishes. But blind angels, you do see me so clearly.