staying in bed
might not only be
an attitude
of laziness
just as stepping out of the race
does not necessarily mean
giving up
it can
in both cases
perfectly well be
an act of peace

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staying in bed
might not only be
an attitude
of laziness
just as stepping out of the race
does not necessarily mean
giving up
it can
in both cases
perfectly well be
an act of peace
sometimes silence might be
the best way to communicate
sometimes all there is left to say
is to keep quiet
sometimes
every word occurring in the mind
is harmful
yet beauty is still around
for the one who is able to see it
the world full of harmony for the one
able to hear
wind is finally blowing to the ground
the last separate leaves
leaving the world ready and settled
to receive winter
when it comes
being ready and settled is indeed
something precious
as we never know
what is to come
flexibility
not as an exercise
to flex away from oneself
but to flex even deeper towards
the essence of
love
a lazy moon
behind veils of clouds
softening its shine
while fear is running through the veins
back to the heart
leaving the whole body
feeble
and the heart pondering worries
there seems to be
no other way through
than to stick it out
only to discover
a different dimension of the body’s strength
and a different degree of courage
trees are standing
in their almost naked structure
triumphing in the cold
showing the spine of their beauty
without guilt
nor shame
nor secrets
nor lies
just naked beauty
in the cold
mist is covering the world
opening mysterious ways
in the mind
to places which cannot be reached
by full daylight
nor found in the dark
embracing time
by giving things the time
things need
gives in the end
time for everything
silver light
sleeplessness
bitter dreams
and glorious sunrises
somewhere in between
all of that
a lost soul seem
to have come
home
worries
invading
what was supposed to be
a peaceful moment
in a peaceful space
all sorts of worries
with all sorts of shadows
only powerful because
never truly heard
in the race
to avoid them
darkness is closing in
and cold with it
yet
one single bird
still seems to be singing
telling stories of past glories
announcing glories
to come
or praising the moment
depending on the ear
listening