the moon was high
the owl singing
something is being
left behind
while new landscapes are opening
behind the word of
destiny
transubstantiation
certain moments
are so important
that there are no words
to describe them
without betraying
what is taking place
little things
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
contempt
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
firm
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
kind
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
exaltation
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
incomprehension
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
stress
not to feel safe
is an undermining state to be in
for whatever reasons might cause
the insecurity
having nowhere to go
is unsafe
having nowhere to go with ones insecurity
is ending up in stress
stress is diminishing the faculties of the brain
limiting the flexibility of the intelligence
there can come no vision
to a stressed mind
its only hope is
that the heart may not give in
times
sometimes
coming back to the world
even if only after a long nights sleep
can be longer
than what is expected
the wind is drying the landscape
after a day of heavy rain
telling stories from times
long gone
telling stories from times
to come