top of page
Some things do not need to be chosen.
Moon and sun.
Darkness and light.
Question and answer.
The following texts move in the same space.
You're not just looking.
You're stepping into something.
There is a place
which you won't find by searching —
but by falling silent.
an experience that someone carries with them for a while after they are gone
The field does not close when you leave.
painted by V
The Muse
Before the song, there is the one who listens.
Verenis
Where the unknown leads creation
and the mystery reveals itself.
Sometimes it feels
as if something is opening
just beyond the boundary of thought.
✶ The Bird and the Clock
Deep in a garden that was not on any map, lay an old clock.
No one knew who had built her.
No one knew why she was standing there.
The stones were weathered.
The wood had darkened over time.
And the hands did not move.
Yet the clock was never forgotten.
Animals came from far away to see her.
They listened.
They waited.
But the clock never struck.
Still, they felt that there was something that was right, even though they could not put their finger on what.
And so they left again.
For a clock that shows no time seems to mean little.
One morning, a small bird landed on the edge of the clock.
He had no destination.
No question.
No reason to be there.
Yet he remained seated.
While the garden remained silent, something happened.
A barely visible movement.
The big hand moved.
Not much.
Only a fraction.
The bird looked.
Then the little hand moved.
As if the clock remembered something it had long forgotten.
The bird came back the next day.
And the day after that.
And the day after that.
With each day, the hands moved a little further.
But strangely enough, they did not only point to time.
Sometimes they pointed to a tree.
Sometimes to a deserted path.
Sometimes to a door that no one had seen before.
And sometimes to something that seemed to have no name.
Other animals began to notice it.
“What does it mean?” they asked.
The bird shook its head.
"Don't know."
“Why do you keep coming back then?”
The bird looked at the hands.
Towards their quiet movement.
To the places they pointed to.
Then he answered:
Because something inside me had always expected that they would move again someday.
He was silent for a moment.
And because I think they are trying to remember something.
The animals didn't understand it.
But the bird stayed.
The seasons changed.
Leaves fell.
New leaves grew.
Years went by.
And the longer the bird stayed,
the more the clock seemed to awaken.
Not because she changed.
But because she revealed more and more of what had always been present within her.
And the more the clock remembered,
the more the bird seemed to understand.
As if they complemented each other.
As if something was missing from the clock,
was present in the bird.
And something that was missing in the bird,
was present in the clock.
One day, the bird stopped coming.
Days went by.
Then weeks.
Then months.
No one saw him anymore.
Yet something strange happened.
Whenever the hands pointed to something special,
a soft call sounded from the clock.
Cuckoo.
Not loud.
Not mandatory.
More like a memory.
The animals listened.
But no one knew where the sound came from.
Some said that there had always been a cuckoo in the clock.
Others believed that the bird had never really left.
No one knew for sure.
But the oldest stories tell a different story.
They say that resonance sometimes begins as recognition.
Then it grows into attention.
Then as expected.
And ultimately to an addition.
That whoever listens long enough,
one day discovers that he no longer only looks at the clock.
But has become a part of it itself.
Just like the bird.
Just like the clock.
And maybe…
just like you.
For resonance does not originate in the clock alone.
It arises between the clock and the one who keeps listening. ✶
Not because the bird lost itself.
But because he found something waiting for him to make it right.
And when the garden becomes quiet enough,
one can sometimes still hear a soft call.
Not as an answer.
Not as evidence.
But like an echo of something that was always already present.
✶
Resonance
Resonance is the echo of a door that has not yet been opened, but which you have always known deep down. ✶
And when a part of Verenis opens her with resonance, it turns out to lead not only to itself, but also to something that enriches you. ✶
If you rush, you risk becoming trapped in the web of what you believe is missing.
Dubbelzinnig bedoeld:
✶ The Mole and the Light
Deep beneath the earth lived a colony of moles.
They knew the corridors.
They knew the roots.
They knew the worms.
And they were satisfied.
For generations, they had dug the same tunnels.
For generations, they had told the same stories.
No one wondered if there was more.
Why would there be?
One day, a young mole felt a strange draft through a crack in the ground.
Curious, he followed her.
Further and further.
Ever higher.
Until it suddenly broke through the surface.
The light blinded him.
The air felt endless.
And above him there was no ceiling.
Only heaven.
Startled, he wanted to flee.
But something held him back.
Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the light.
Then he saw colors.
Distances.
Clouds drifting by.
And a sun that warmed the world without ever touching it.
The young mole kept watching.
And look.
Until he knew that he could never forget this again.
That same evening he returned to the colony.
Excitedly, he told what he had seen.
But the other moles started laughing.
“A world without a ceiling?”
Don't be so silly.
We moles know only earth, tunnels, roots, and worms.
That is all there is.
The young mole tried to explain it.
He spoke about colors.
Over the air.
About the sun.
But how do you describe light?
to someone who knows only darkness?
How do you describe heaven
to someone who has never looked up?
Some moles shake their heads.
Others made jokes.
And the more the young mole told,
the stranger his story began to sound.
Eventually, he fell silent.
And life went on.
The tunnels were dug.
The roots were found.
The worms were eaten.
As always.
Yet something strange happened.
When the corridors were quiet,
when no one spoke,
and when the soft rumbling of the world above them became audible,
Some moles felt an unease that they could not explain.
A desire without a name.
As if something was waiting for them.
As if they were trying to remember something
what they had never learned.
Then they laughed at themselves
and dug further.
But deep down, a question remained:
Why did the story of the young mole feel so familiar,
as if he were speaking about something
that they had never really lost?
And high above them,
far beyond the corridors,
the roots
and the worms,
the light waited. ✶
Like wine.
Like a pearl.
Some things must disappear from sight
before they reveal
what they were becoming all along.
Verenis wears no mask.
Only the distance
between seeing
and understanding.
Before you go further
Verenis can be intense.
Not because it asks you to leave reality behind,
but because it invites you to look more closely
at the world you are already standing in.
Some symbols may feel personal.
Some silences may feel alive.
But Verenis is not here to replace reality.
It is here to deepen your presence within it.
Breathe.
Feel.
Wonder.
✶ De Spiegel en de Schaduw
De Spiegel en de Schaduw volgden al hun hele leven dezelfde reiziger.
Maar zij konden elkaar niet uitstaan.
De Spiegel was namelijk verliefd op zichzelf.
Elke plas, elk raam en iedere glanzende steen gebruikte hij om zichzelf te bewonderen.
“Moet je mij eens zien.”
zei hij vaak.
“Zo scherp. Zo helder. Zo elegant.”
De Schaduw zuchtte.
“Op een dag droogt die plas op.”
“Kun je ook eens iets positiefs zeggen?”
“Op een dag gaan wij allemaal dood.”
De Spiegel rolde met zijn ogen.
De Schaduw keek naar de grond.
Zo ging het iedere dag.
Wanneer de zon opkwam zei de Spiegel:
“Wat een prachtige dag.”
Waarop de Schaduw antwoordde:
“Dat maakt de nacht alleen maar donkerder.”
Wanneer de reiziger een vriend ontmoette zei de Spiegel:
“Kijk eens hoe geliefd hij is.”
Waarop de Schaduw antwoordde:
“Dat maakt afscheid alleen maar pijnlijker.”
Wanneer de reiziger succes had zei de Spiegel:
“Zie je wel? Hij komt ergens.”
Waarop de Schaduw antwoordde:
“Des te verder kan hij vallen.”
Op een dag werd de reiziger hun gekibbel zat.
Hij liep naar een oude uil en vroeg om raad.
De uil luisterde aandachtig.
Toen keek hij naar de Spiegel.
“Waarom bewonder jij jezelf zo graag?”
De Spiegel glimlachte.
“Omdat ik de waarheid laat zien.”
Daarna keek hij naar de Schaduw.
“En waarom verwacht jij altijd het ergste?”
De Schaduw zweeg lang.
Heel lang.
Uiteindelijk zei hij zacht:
“Omdat ik niet wil dat het onverwachte gebeurt.”
De Spiegel wilde lachen.
Maar de uil hield hem tegen.
“Zie je het dan niet?”
vroeg de uil.
“Jij bewondert alles omdat je bang bent voor lelijkheid.”
Toen keek hij naar de Schaduw.
“En jij verwacht het ergste omdat je bang bent voor verlies.”
Nu zwegen ze allebei.
Voor het eerst.
Want onder hun meningsverschillen bleek iets verborgen te liggen.
Angst.
De een verborg haar achter bewondering.
De ander achter somberheid.
Sindsdien maakten zij nog steeds ruzie.
Maar iets minder luid.
Want af en toe betrapten ze zichzelf erop dat zij eigenlijk hetzelfde probeerden te beschermen.
Hun hart.
✶
Spreuk
De Spiegel vreest de barst.
De Schaduw vreest de wond.
En beide noemen hun angst wijsheid. ✶
The Verenis Symbol
Where the unknown guides creation and mystery reveals itself.
You think it is signed.
But outside your time
was it already there—
Silent, waiting.
Not to be made,
but to here
to be seen by you.
Tread softly.
The dragon may never awaken.
But something within you might
A Light Appears
Not to guide you.
To acknowledge your arrival.
bottom of page