I sleep in the shadow of my tears
Painted by the moon on my eyelids
Carved by the rising sun on my cheeks
Dried and hardened to stone threads
Of solemn sorrow and sadness
Grown attached to my skin like scars
Like the ripened wounds on my wrist
From over the years
You were once not like this
I was once stronger
Your kindness withered like my trust
My faith decayed by your indifference
faith
Our Love
I love how much you love me
How much our love can overcome
How even when we no longer exist
Our love still live on
I believe that
I love how much I love you
Even when it hurts
It’s a power greater and stronger
Than either of us
Or together combined
From above
Every other second
I feel like everything could fall apart
Tragedies that happened
Remain irreversible to the heart
What’s left of promises?
The answer I’m still waiting for
Broken spirit more or less
But faith still blooming forever sure
Like flowers sprouting from clouds of doubt
Still proud with or without solid ground
On how it will unfold or fall
Because nothing at all
I repeat, nothing at all
Could replace any aspect
Of this wonderful, disastrous, magical epic
For the ball is round
It’s you that I found
And embrace every effect
That your beautiful, infectious, angelic being
Has on me
What you’ve done to us
I can’t stop to be
Amazed every day
I am faced to appreciate
How I’m becoming by love
Up and down, around and from above
Love is a gamble. Always.
I feel like a tirelessly exhausted gambling addict.
Every time I lose, the stakes get raised and I always go all in. I don’t ease into it, I don’t wait or ponder whether I have the right cards. I don’t seem to worry about the outcome, I apparently have nothing to lose. Every time again, I believe this time my luck will have turned to face me in my favor. Every time I have my hopes set on the power of faith to work its magic for me just once more. Every time I get burned, broken and beat down. I cry, self destruct, mourn my failure, grief my own downfall. Then I gather my loose pieces and my losses together and reach deep into the infinite bottomless pocket of love cash that is my heart. Only to play again, only one more time. Always.
Maybe somewhere in the back of my mind I know that the house always wins and we’re all being scammed for the mere disillusionment that we could have it all and gain even more if we just play it right, if we just get in touch with that one stroke of luck. Maybe one day I’ll learn to walk away as soon as my winning streak is over. But instead I still sit here, betting more of myself than I actually have to give, just riding along on the hope, the wish, the dream, the faith that soon my luck will return. Or love.
Fire.
In the tired tears of solitude and abandonment, I find the grounds that will take me further. They will move underneath my feet, they will carry me like I’m weightless. They will be nurtured by grains of strengthless hope, prideless faith and vainless patience.
The deeper the hole I dig in this nothingness, the larger the pile of dust I collect. All just matter to build a path from, all leading to a way out. The black hole beneath, above and around me gets sucked into oblivion by the fire inside my heart.
Infinite and pure, unmoved and self reliant. It fuels from its own ashes, it breathes its own heat. It burns water to steam, it lights air up to flames, it cracks any rock into sand. Every attempt to extinguish, it diminishes within a heartbeat.
It will be my leading light out of this darkness, it will be the furnace I prepare my food on, it will be the blanket I keep warm under, it will be my weapon against any harm.
I’ll reach the sun, going from cloud to cloud, from sitting by the moon, staring in amazement, blessed by its magical shine and warmth. I will return this fire to its nature and origin, and become a moon myself.
Forever surrounded by and surrounding myself with, the light, love and life that is within this eternal fire. Always in awe of what I once held in my heart to then enjoy from a safe and respectful length of peace.
Prophecy
Emphasize what’s meaningless
Regret everything that’s not
Amplify all reason less
There is more that we don’t got
Deny every form of structure
Embrace chaos with all due devotion
Cherish what comes in the future
Time has only one direction for motion
Forgive the ignorant
For they don’t know why you should
Release all sensation
Perception is more idealistic than good
Promise what you forgot
Someone might come back for it
Respond to lust with pride,
to love with innocence
Have faith and believe
Trust hatred to leave
Such as every other emotion
No one controls any of them
We lock them away to be safe
Like an enraged lion in a cage
It has no use to us
To doubt everything we lose
Our voices don’t echo when they scream
Our breath never lasts longer than a minute
To await signals like a prophecy
Is like expecting the moon to come closer
It’s only fading further
Pulling loose for freedom
Fulfilling My Faith
All the love I’ll ever have
Will always be in your possession
For yours to take and keep or leave
Awaiting your affection
To remove all of your worry
I consider my task and duty
Won’t ever allow for a frown
To rest on your face of an angel
Will try to never let you down
As much as I am able
Or am permitted by
The perks of human nature
All I can ever do is try
In the midst of all life’s danger
We can only pray and believe
Learn to trust and achieve
That we deserve what we receive
From loss to sorrow and grief
To love and comfort, relief
We all need someone
Along for carrying this weight
And I want you or no one
To join in fulfilling my faith
Taking me all the way
Up in the clouds
To where paradise is born
Beyond the rainbow rays
With no fear or doubts
Peaceful like the eye of a storm
Beauty like the light of one sun
Among a starless nightsky
I’ll hold your heart high
Treasure it with pride
Stay glued to your side
As long as you want me to
There will only be love flowing
Growing between me and you
I can be so sure without knowing
Because there’s no controlling what’s true
It will just go how it’s supposed to be going
And we can only follow through
With our hands tied to the sky
Our hearts bound together too
The vision of tomorrow in our eyes
Floathing on drops of morning dew
.Love/Hate.
The most common mistake people tend to make, is assuming that the opposite of love is hate. That you either love or hate someone, while actually, both notions exist simultaneously, in the same space, at the same time.
When you don’t have love in your life, you don’t necessarily have hate instead. What you do have, when you don’t have love…is silence, solitude and fear.
Fear of being left out, fear of living or dying alone, fear of not being remembered or seen or heard. No one to talk to, nobody to rely on, no sheltering arms around you, no shoulder to cry on, no special person to share all that you value. Silence in your soul and emptiness in your heart.
From this silence, solitude and fear…this lack of love, we actually have a choice we can make. We choose..
either hate; including hurt, anger and sadness, following each other up like chackles in a chain, on a downward spiral of negativity, of hating everything and everyone, especially ourselves..
or love; opening doors to hope, faith and happiness, equally following each other up like steps to a stairs, up to whatever we aspire to reach or become, believing in the good of life and being receptive for all the positivity of luck..
Two seperate paths with many intersections..
Love or Hate. It’s upto you.
Echoes.
I try to reach out and hold you right there
But you’re just thick water and thin air
Flowing hard and whistling softly
I recognize the melody
But it gets flushed away by your flood
Don’t want to reset the memory
Cause you’re yet part of my blood
Could you just slow down to disappear
And let me make it more clear
That this goes deeper than a feeling
This is far more certain than faith
It’s a disease that offers healing
A part of love we like to hate
Because we can’t control how it goes
There is no real sound in echoes
The only thing we got is here and now
You and me
Whatever comes next
Or after that
Is as we choose it to be
The Second Heart
I want to write till dawn falls
Until I don’t remember anything
About now or ever or whatever that is to come
I know there are no memories available
Of a future that is mine to make
But the past that is mine to keep
Promises only worse to follow
I rather not know any thing no more
I rather not breathe another ounce of oxygen
I rather just sleep to never wake once more
I rather just die tonight cause living for tomorrow is a waste
Tomorrow won’t be any better than before
Like none of the tomorrows ever been
They’re always just the same
A little worse if I’m lucky
Maybe something awful to happen, if I try hard
Never better
Never brighte
People hope and believe and pray
For anything, for all that will never come
It’s all just such a waste of effort
Life is a waste of time
Not worth the time wasted though
In the end you die and be forgotten
Why start and make something of it to begin with
It all ends the same
Everything you try
Goes the same way eventually
Follows the same path
Maybe that is destiny
That things in YOUR life, always go the way YOUR life is supposed to go
Fucked up in my case
Still I stay this messed up believer
Believing in better things to come
Believing in hope to bring relief
Believing in love to ever ease my heart
…But the way this heart’s been broken
It’s impossible to heal…
No one should feel obliged to even try
Let’s just say you do feel that way
Let’s just consider a situation where someone comes along
That wants to make me happy and alive
Someone who is convinced he wants to love me and fill me with all the joy and love in the world
…He will find out soon enough
That it simply takes too much…
Too much time, too much effort, too much attention, too much understanding, too much care, too much commitment, too much endless interest, too much patience, too much love, too much light, too much happiness, too much of everything that has ever been considered to belong to the category of ‘good’
You see, I have this enormous black hole, in the place where average people carry their heart.
I know, the heart is nothing but a muscle, which grows more strong and fit, if you train it.
But we’re all human right ?
Human’s have everything in pairs:
Two eyes
Two nostrels
Two ears
Two lips
Two cheeks
Two hands
Two arms
Two lungs
Two legs
Two feet
Two nipples
Two buttcheeks
Two pieces of reproductions devices (men: testicles, women: overies)
Two brainhalfs
So how come we only have one (physical) heart ?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not getting all psych right now.. and I know that ‘matters of the heart’ ..it’s just a metaphore because emotion doesn’t actually occur in the heart. We may feel it in our thorax area, some only feel it in their abdomen. In reality it’s just electricity in the nerve system.
But we call it the heart, for some reason right ?
Let’s just pretend for a second, that we actually have two hearts…
One physical, pumping around our blood, supplying our body with what it needs to stay vital, keeping us alive.
And one heart, on a whole other level. Not mental or emotional even. I don’t even care to call it metafysical, because that has a philosopical nasty ring to it. No, I mean something waaay beyond that.
A second heart, I think we all have another heart, on a level of love. Love being then this universal source. A source, not just supernatural, but outernatural. Like a god almost. But nothing like a god at the same time. Because I’m not talking about a person or a creature or anything that has form or shape or extension. I’m talking about something way more elusive and lucid. Something way more abstract and intangible. Something not even divine or superb, but everything more than that. Something so unimaginable, yet so desirable. Something so exciting, yet so nerve rackingly calming. Something so fulfilling, you get confused because as a human being you just don’t understand why you’re not seeking for fulfilment anylonger. Something so overwhelming, it covers and controls every governing system you ever had or created in order to keep yourself together. Yet it has you falling apart. Because as a human being, you’re not built to handle this.
Self-sabotage, self-inflicted injury, self-mutilation even.
At least, that is the typical way of dealing with these things or situations, for me. Would’nt know how to any other way. Maybe that’s my ultimale goal, maybe I have a goal in life after all.
Learning, or teaching myself.. to deal, cope or handle with.. life (?) and all that comes with it? Which should be nothing but love. But who wants to live in Utopia?
What’s the good worth, without the bad ?
Could we distinguish the colors of light if there was no darkness for it to step out off ?
Could we recognise sound if there was never silence ?
I think we would though. I think every living person has a certain sense of what’s good and great and perfect and beautiful and precious and lovely even if we’ve never had any sensory experience of it, as a sort of ‘a priori’ invested knowledge implanted in our souls to begin our lifes with.
Why do I think that? What has me so convinced?
How come we know the concept of ‘peace’ while the world is in war every day ever since human race can begin to remember it’s own name ?
How come even the most morbid souls know at least some clinical description of the meaning of love ?
How come we manage to conceptualize the meaning of an ‘utopia’ when there is no perfection ever realized in this world ?
How could there every exist such knowledge (or ‘faith’, for the pessimists and sceptists among us) if there wasn’t just the slightest fraction of useful information to support any of such conceptual ideas..?
Even the most extravagant, extraordinary, extreme and irrealistic fantasy or dream, is only constructed with the tools of our sensory perception. If we dream, we dream in shapes and colors, which we know… from within, from before.
We dream about what we know, they say. A random cocktail of deep hidden beliefs and fears and hopes or desires even, mixed together into a story, or even just a documentary of flashing images that make no sense but agressively pound their footsteps in our mental image anyhow.
But I bet baby’s dream too.. Maybe they don’t remember their dreams, they’re probably not fit to reproduce a sensible story out of them afterwards at any time of their lifes…
But I’m sure baby’s dream. And I don’t just refer to baby’s, at this point. I’m actually talking about fetuses. Baby’s that still live in the womb of an pregnant woman, full of big expectations, so to speak. I don’t really know if there has been any research regarding this specific question (and if not, I really think there should be, by now), but I think that any human being, when developed a full use of the brain capacity, it would be able to dream, right?
I mean, an unborn baby can hear it’s surroundings. The impressions it gains while being breed, are supposed to be carried along with the child among its life. So I bet there is a mental space, in that tiny brain, that has already (or at least practices perhaps) some premature mental equivalent of processing those (probably mostly auditive) impressions, into dreams..
So let’s just assume that is true. Unborn infants experience dreams too.. Then what do they really dream about? Their eyes are still closed, they don’t have any visuals. They just have sounds. Some basic emotions maybe? It’s true that dreams don’t always occur in a visual content. Sometimes we just dream a feeling, a sensation. If they are ugly and fearful, we call them night terrors. (not nightmares.. nightmares are just bad dreams). Night terrors.. we all have them, you dream something so awful, you won’t even know how to remember what it looked like. Like post-traumatic stress syndrome after a traumatic event. You know it happened, you know EVERY detail about it!! …only not in words, or images, even the most creative examples or most vivid metaphors don’t begin to allow to explain exactly HOW it felt or WHAT it was like.
But those can only exist if a person has at least the slightest amount of misery in experience available. Presuming an unborn baby has no such thing, I allow myself to assume that unborn baby’s have dreams, not night terrors.
Coming back to where I started with, how is it that we know about things that not really exist? Such as peace and perfection. And what do unborn baby’s dream about, if they have no visual content whatsoever to construct a dream in display?
There must be, in my imagination at least, a place where these things develop and occur. A place beyond physicalities, broken free of scientific borders. I believe it is the second heart.
A nature of every human, that resides among them, further and deeper than the senses could ever explain. A second heart, where love lives and rules and flows freely, and willingly. Yet trapped like a secret potion in a vessel. The vessel of eternal youth, perhaps…
Truth Beyond Mystery 