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mist

tender mist

enveloping the world

keeping out

what is not to be seen

quite yet

allowing one to progress

blindfolded

by tenderness

until the heart is ripe

to receive

what belongs to it

there is just enough wind

to let a twig scratch the window

with quirking sounds

just enough sounds to remind

that all the agendas building up in the mind

are never to take over

presence

there is just enough presence to be aware

one is about to drown

in important matters

of no use

sleep

long metamorphosing sleep

absorbing every impression

transforming them into wisdom

written into the core of every cell

never to be the same

again

silence

along the seaside

without any wind

to stir the waves

only the generous movements of water

reaching the shore in tender embrace

stroking the sand

washing away every imprint

soon after it has been left

as emotions can swallow our souvenirs

soon after we have left the presence

and absorb them in the turmoil of memory

we are unable to distinguish

and yet carry

regardless in our heart

stars were out during night

opening towards eternity

reminding

that behind the thick layers

of apparent impenetrability

is always a different degree

words without roots in mystery

were spread in the night

creating more illusions

in the sad conviction

of understanding

what can be lived

but not explained

clouds are yet again

covering the sky

this particular sensation

of being able to touch the clouds

just by stretching out the hand

a thick layer of humidity

like walking through water till the knees

an invisible resistance

assuring

that no decision is being taken

while the soul is passing the threshold of darkness

to meet the inner light

pieces in the puzzle

are falling

into their proper place

finally allowing the past to be called

by its proper name

healing old and open wounds

and thereby revealing

all the beauty

which had lain covered under the lesion

inaccessible for the memory

due to the unspoken

that created its proper lies

and prevented the peace

so longed for

in between

places

changing location

crossing thresholds

despite all the preparation

one seems never to be prepared enough

for the unknown

it is tempting to proclaim

that preparations are superficial

that being the case

but strangely enough

it seems to be

precisely the quality of the preparation

that defines the depth

of every initiation

silence

peaceful silence

after endless rain

that finally went against its definition

and ended

somewhere in the night

while no one was there

to witness the dissolution

of identity

no words represent themselves

to describe

the ultimate

they are all circling around

flattering

seducing

hurting

harming

but none of them seems to grasp

the essence that shapes them

and gives them the power

to create . . .