Légèreté de l’être

22 04 2019

And so I´m back…

Back where?

Back to the track?

Back to black?

Back searching for some ephemeral illusion

of human – freedom? peace? of happiness? of hope?

Back to the question marks with no solution?

 

Back to this dizziness of flight – or fall

– no safety ropes

could hold me, but my fear.

This simple human thing,

mixed with adrenalin and blatant fascination.

No longer searching for futile salvation,

Who cares! – I live! I feel! I think!

…I think I´m out of any causal link,

unbound of any worldly gravitation,

compressed,

expanded,

twisted,

newly formed by this

unbearable lightness of my being…

 

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Erised

7 02 2019

All of my recent self… these words, these worlds, these feelings,

all of my joys, my longings, and my strives,

all of these shiny trifles that comprised my settled life, –

„so are they all! all honourable…“ things…

 

all this that seemed to stay, to everlast,

bled white with ink, bleached out and withered.

The spirals of my tired spine unweaving:

If everything goes, why, then my life has passed.

 

And everything I dreamt I felt or had

Was neither carved in stone nor sealed by action,

`t was never mine, not ever, since its inception,

´t was just a mere illusion in the Mirror of Erised.





our rags of light…

1 10 2018

Puzzling and humbling:

living them through,

these stolen moments of peace,

of sacred shared-ness

amongst the daily roam.

These tiny emeralds of easiness,

of unexpected fun

of being

simply me

or

simply you.

Cheerful recognition

of those

rags of light

smiling back in the eyes of the other.

 

 





Hangover

9 08 2018

… and this crippling awareness emerges,

and the oyster, devoid of her shell,

grips for pieces of it in an urge

to re-cover herself. All meant well,

yet the pieces lie fallen apart.

.

Every breath feels so dizzy inside.

Pumping blood open-air, her heart,

unprotected for any more surges,

gapes for silence, and comfort, and light.





De-oyster-ised

29 07 2018

Not that I´d never breath´d before,

Not that I´d been a deprived of human warmth,

Not that I had been deaf and heard no music. –

And still this silent tune of yours is finer.

 

I am all open now.

Come round and have a look.

I feel and sound,

I´m reaching for a thin air,

I´m humbled in my will:

I have no voice to call your name,

I am confused,

I know no more.

I don´t know where I am, –

This wood between the worlds:

No end and no beginning.

Completely out of my shell.

De-oyster-ised and gaping

For your quiet light.

 





Between the lines

29 03 2018

Lost so deep between the lines,

Far too smart for implications,

For unwise insinuations

Far too earnest, far too fine.

 

Lines with lead still feel so light,

Following your shapes. No touching.

Modest, decent. Am I blushing? –

When the lines collide…





Silence

8 03 2018

Take off your face and put it over there,

Beside the mirror. Right!

No pretence accepted.

Just look me in the eye,

Don’t speak, but listen, feel it in the air:

The perfect silence…

 

The heavenly present of muteness

Upon the lips that joke too eagerly and far too often,

Upon the mockery of human voices, high and low,

Upon the comedy of human drama.

The tears that never felt like weep,

for no one knows what proper tears feel like.

We learn to bear that cheerful empty face,

that crunches over senseless petty causes;

we know no longer why we came and where

shall we all go, –

And so we talk,

for talking cures the holes inside us,

oh, does it really? –

The holes that can’t be truly stitched by words.

 

Let us be quiet and inhale at last

This little blessing of

Letting them go: the masks, the words, the actions,

Just letting us be us,

and breathe,

and live.