Author: nanna

being paralysed

in some part of the body

or even if only in ones mental capacity of action

is a considerable impediment

to live with

being paralysed

and powerful

just the same

is a perpetual walk on an invisible tightrope

invisible for everyone else

than oneself

stars shining bright

the last leaves holding on

while most of the forest is naked

changing the point of gravity

in what is to be taken

for granted

the moon was high

the owl singing

something is being

left behind

while new landscapes are opening

behind the word of

destiny

certain moments

are so important

that there are no words

to describe them

without betraying

what is taking place

layers of old grief

mounting to the surface

bringing memories to the mind

that was considered of no importance

little things might change the world

for the worse

as for the better

waking up

from an unpleasant dream

full of anxiety

covered with sweat

and incomprehension

how life became so complicated

while it all seemed to be

so simple

trapped between contempt for those

who makes it seem so

and compassion with those for whom

it obviously never was

gasping for air

standing firm

without any kind of rigidity

takes more flexibility

and a greater sensitivity

than most are given

and those who are

often find themselves under such strain

that they lose the awareness of

what they have

to be kind

is an art

in itself

as with every talent

it takes discipline

and devotion

to master it

and make it grow

but when someone is coming

searching for shadow under the tree of kindness

picking a fruit to satisfy their hunger

all the questioning

whether it is worth the effort

vanishes

like morning dew

under the sun

glorious sunshine

blessing the shortness of daylight

illuminating new areas

of darkness

dynamiting the mountain of the soul

releasing insights into the most secret vaults

of our being

weaving golden armours

around open hearts

silence

hitting hard

pushing up old wounds

of worthlessness

the stars are out

the pain is unbearable

the incomprehension in front of such behaviour

abyssal

what happened to love ?

. . .

a single bird is singing in the darkness