The longing soul is like a butterfly flying over the flowers of a huge garden. In its aspiration to be fully satisfied in its brief existence, sometimes gets lost among colors, shapes, loves and pains. And it only realize its endless search when notices that on the essence of all that exists, itself and the flowers are one. The Essence of Everything has no name. The existence of Everything which owns a name is an illusion.» Thank you for this music inspiration……Ezequiel Belchior

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