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light is shifting
growing slowly again
towards illumination and transparency
towards joy and laughter
towards long evenings
and sleepless nights
cascades of light
is flooding consciousness
while the shift outside
is barely noticeable
but still there
as an invisible opening
towards eternity
endless rain
with what seem endless tears
and yet
just as the rain
at some point will hold in again
even the source of what seems
endless tears
will run dry
who taught us, it is a bad thing to cry
there is nothing more relieving
nothing more liberating
nothing more purifying
than to release the sorrow
which is otherwise dammed up inside
and just as rain is needed for crops to grow
just the same way
tears are needed for love to flourish
awakening into fury
is not necessarily the most peaceful way
to begin the day
even if
the world around is perfectly peaceful
tender moonlight falling generously in through the windows
silent stars twinkling through the dark
awakening into fury
is a state to be handled with utmost care
unless we wish fury to rule
our day
a single bird
singing in the night
on an hour
where usually
no birds of its kind
makes any sound
singing as if to announce spring
whereas the shortest day of the year
is still ahead
not far away
but still ahead
as if to remind
in the most elegant manner
that even in the darkest of winter
hope is not to be lost
interrupted sleep
and a torn heart
drowned in a body
with despair woven into every fibre of it
a night bird calling through stilled darkness
where not even a wind
seems to move
as if the entire world was holding breath
awaiting dawn
silence
in this particular blessed way it is to be perceived
when human activity
is at rest
when the eye gets used to darkness
and begin to distinguish what is hidden there
a whole different world unfold
a world of forms and sounds
where the superficial aspect of the item
has lost its power
where all
that is normally considered glamorous
can no longer be seen
but in the world of forms and sounds
the true content of every aspect
is possible to be perceived
by the eye which dares to see
and the ear
which dares to listen
only one single thin layer
like a veil of a cloud
on the sky
otherwise generously illuminated
by the shine of the moon
a certain mildness in the air
and the wind whispering just to remind us
it is still there
only one single thin layer
like a veil of a cloud
is enough to disturb the surface of the soul
creating riddles
where insight is longed for
and yet these veils are never to be seen
as anything else than a tender protection
against the light
our hearts are not yet purified to reflect
wind and rain
and winter
in a landscape where every colour seems to be
effaced into nuances
where grey is the dominant
where shadows flutters
where ghost from the past
no longer see the difference between now and then
and walk around in the corridors of the mind
believing they are free
not realising how
they are if anything
more than at any other time of the year
in danger of becoming homeless
since hibernation
is the most adequate time of year
to overcome darkness
and its memories
by the shine of the inner light
when a heart begins to breath
freely
after years and years of imprisonment
a certain dizziness is to be felt
at each respiration
especially when the headmaster of the prison
is the mind of the very body
sustaining the vital organ
heavy winds are sweeping the world
while the moon shines bright
whipping of the chains of nature
to gain freedom of soul
endless moonlight
falling in cascades
through the naked trees
opening towards
a different kind of clarity
where insights gain surgical precision
where balance is found
between the invisible
and the seen