Month: August 2020

leftovers from the past

hanging out in the present

crumbs of dreams

fragmenting the night

into a ride

across hidden longings

never accomplished

never listened to

never explored

leftovers from the past

are not to be neglected

not every dream

is to be lived

but to be considered

and released

to walk around with the heart full of unanswered calls

is like carrying heavy secrets

ready to detonate

when least expected

being numb

to ones own feelings

is apparently

a dangerous place to be

dislocating the compass of the heart

into fragile calculations

of a diminished brain

limiting the fields of action

to what can be understood

by the human mind

being numb

to ones own feelings

is a sad experience of life lived

in only one

dimension

a red sunrise

and a silent moon

greeting each other

from opposite ends

of the firmament

announcing a sort of balance

a tightrope

stretched out between planets

to walk on

if awareness

allows

a night haunted

by sleeplessness and mosquitoes

under waves of heat

rolling over the already dry land

softening the structure of the bones

melting the structures of the mind

the moon stands over the golden treetops

still indifferent

to the tides

of human nature

patiently waiting for mankind

to cease its enterprise

of destruction

there is no such thing

as a perfect world

though there might be a choice

to live in the light

or in eager to pursue

that perfect world

which has never been anything else

than a powerful illusion

to nourish the weaknesses

of the heart

and weakening the power

of the soul

greeted by a lonesome fox

inspecting yesterdays work

under a clear blue sky

looking satisfied with what has been done

pleased with the circumstances which

despite the poor state the fox is in

seems to please him

there is something in this place

reaching beyond the actual state

sometimes more present than others

but always there

quietly running below

even the most insistent of droughts

nourishing the deeper layers

of life

awakening from far away

in the land of peaceful dreams

into a minefield of emotions

all ready to blow into explosion

by the slightest misstep

wishing only to return

to the land of peaceful dreams

where no pain

reigns

yet vaults after vault of despair

seems to unfold by every step

away from the land of peaceful dreams

fear has caught up with every member of the body

the brain in a state of constant alert

until

an inspiration to stop for a second

before the first bomb blows

falls into consciousness

like a tender embrace of a mother’s arms

closing the eyes

to walk inwards

bringing what is left behind

from the passage through the land of peaceful dreams

to the surface

observing with wonder

the enfoldment of silent light

awakening into an overheated brain

and old behavioural patterns

seems more than anything

than awaking into a nightmare

with the growing darkness

devouring a few minutes of daylight

every day

while nature is shrinking

under the drought

pushing even the most hidden vulnerabilities

to the surface

it seems merciless

and endless

but what should not be underrated

is the drying out

of old wounds

only leaving

marks of immaculate beauty

behind

the re-education of minds

is a meticulous work

perhaps underestimated

perhaps a waste of time

for someone

wishing to live

from the heart

flooded by undigested impressions

coming to the surface

from somewhere in the intestines

of the mind

where they have been stored

unknowingly

waiting for the proper moment

to be looked at

the nausea is as real

as any intangible nausea can be

and somehow

it makes no sense to dissect the content of the memories

they are all in pieces

fragments of experiences

that can no longer become whole

no longer tell

a proper story

maybe all there is to do

is to let it surface

in order to leave it behind

liberating space for a proper life

to be lived

from the guts