Each poem, each word, the song. The song of the dying swan and then back to being alive, again, alive until the moment of liberation: The inspiration, the poem about the new fascination everything is as beautiful as the poem needs it to be.

Harmony, balance.

I am here again but but, but I don’t know anymore; I have so many things to share, so many thoughts and feelings we live in a beautiful world I want to give you my eyes, see through my eyes how beautiful the world is and you don’t have to hear my voice, listen to yourself while you read my words and the sorrow, the sorrow I feel and hear is mine and only mine. Fading echoes. Just that.  Today I remembered an old funny fear of mine, of getting older, haha I felt like a human again. Fears, fears they don’t go nowhere they conveniently move where you wanted them to be and play their theatrical part for you: BuuUuu! Ooga Booga Booga, say that you love me, pay attention to me and oh you are so sweet, don’t turn your eyes away like that. Aw you are so shy, come to us and then the fears dissolve, inside your darkness, now you have to feed them until the next theatrical performance – for your eyes only – Don’t you feel special?

. . . and something else, sometimes they, your fears, wake up in the middle of your sleep! But they want to play so smooch! Here is a cold kiss! Wake up!!! ‘Amusing’ . . . ‘always as amusing’. . .

Trapped inside my head, maybe you are trapped too get out as fast as you can! There is hope but I cannot express myself as I know that I can I don’t know why anymore and you don’t have to know.

This is the window into my soul, the sun still shines and can you see the door knob? Go out, look around you, you love life as you love enchanting poetic expressions what is hidden within you: You are untouchable while reading my words, that’s my gift to you. This is my silence:

this is your mirror, close your eyes and feel



I am here too