Suddenly
I remembered,
I could indeed fly.
I showed it
in the middle of the gathering,
where you first looked
astonished at me,
but then
as if you had seen the devil.

I flew away.

In the large apartment then
not without fear
of unrecognized angles.
But at the border of the apartment
and at the same time
in the midst of it,
with both feet yet
in the own home
standing:
a large, powerful,
noble portal.
The doors made of heavy wood
and framed by
hosts of angels
carved in stone
– each angel
a few candles guarding.

I flew up.

To set fire to all
and which burned down
let shine again
by new form.

In the stone arch
sitting,
with the aim and
the strenuous attempt,
to achieve so too
the outermost candles,
suddenly became so heavy,
as if I had forgotten to fly,
for fear of falling down.

Some down there,
on the other site,
notice the solemn lighting
and
looking up to the lights,
which in the middle of the day
and in middle of the night
are shining.

The one is happy
about the festive light,
the other worries
about my strength.

Even
if I should fall
and
become too heavy to fly:
I would come back,
to light too
the last candle.


© Barbara-Paraprem – 2.9.1993

All suffering comes from the inability to stand pain. As long as these two, suffering and pain, are not distinguished with the razor-sharp sword of wisdom, we will continue to suffer. But it would be incorrect to say, that we are indeed able, but unwilling, because no one likes to suffer. There is a flash of awareness, when we perceive the possibility, yet being able to, in a way, that is given to us. Not from a God outside of us, as if this would play favorites. I can’t describe any way to that place. I just know that it happens sometimes. And this awareness causes immediately complete relief.


© Barbara-Paraprem, 2015

The arrogance of the men and their violence
in all possible forms
– completely everyday or extraordinary,
subtle or extreme,
considered as being normal or abnormal –
depend on this, of course,
that they are either denied or justified
from the perpetrators of the violence themselves.
But also by the women in any way
glossed over, excused or forgiven,
which from childhood to the present day, in Western countries too,
has been brainwashed thoroughly,
which means: shut up, be obedient
and offer no resistance.


© Barbara-Paraprem, 2015

In the heart there is no distance.
The only distance that there is,
is that between heart and head,
says the head, the old fool.
If only he would love himself,
he would be instantly heart.
Is he also condemned
to dwell forever in a foreign land?
He forgot the neck and the breath,
which continuous flows in and out
through the gate in his middle
and flows to the heart,
to the feet,
to the center of the earth,
and back to heaven.


© Barbara-Paraprem, 2015

Even if I search for nothing:
Life is a light,
that shines in the darkness.
But the old fool still defines
gaps, where there are none,
as if he owned himself,
as if he had any substance,
as if he shall pass away someday,
just not now.
What, if right now everything would be fine?


© Barbara-Paraprem, 2015

There is just
nothing
that one could not
complicate
through think
only a little bit.


© Barbara-Paraprem, 2015

Your shadow is a confirmation,
that light has traveled 150 million kilometers,
only to reach the ground exactly where you stand.



© Barbara-Paraprem, 2015