The outer silence is broken
By the inner discussion of my
Thoughts and pictures
From the past, present and future.

Oh say to me, what are
Those things you grave
In this flaming world.
Is it love you still maintain
Amidst your broken heart
Or is it caring
Compassion for those
Poor creatures who have
Nothing but day and night
To linger through their life.
As you are always
Kind and mighty in deeds
To use your power to make
Good out of the ill.
Tell me what is it and I will
Grant you every fortune
I gather and all the love
I find in the hidden beauty
Of the woeful world
To make better of thyself and me
And give the rest to those in need.

Sometimes I feel like falling
Falling out of reality
And then I am floating
Floating in an imagination
And when reality hits me
I cannot say anymore
Where should be my destination.

The whispers of time
The echoes of eternity
They touch my soul
When they pass by me
The time is a whisper
The eternity is an echo
The soul is a clear glass
Which reflects the infinity.

Alone
Rocking slowly on a swing
I close my eyes
And wonder what is love.

Like a snowflake, melting
In the depth of warm hands
Evapourating back into eternity
So brittle, silky, mystic
Is our love.
Catching every spark of fireball.
Flames burn the heart badly
Scars, last for many decades
Deforming and taking a new figure
Never completely forgotten.

Dripping into eternity.
Smashing the time
And collecting the seconds.

What are words for me?
What is writing for me?

It is the freedom you see
When an imprisoned soul
Has freed itself
And flies completely free
Amongst the stars
Before again put into the cage
Of Life.

Walking on the autumn leaves
The colors around me so blended
The fresh mist so humbly retrives
The memories which never ended.

Like a swallow dashes in the sky
My thoughts swoop in the speed of light.
So very hard to capture them
Just let them fly in the height.

I asked Life to dance with me
And He brought me to the hardest steps
The turns and twists I never expected
The severest discipline and arduous regime.

Life told me to be careful and precise
To not step on others feet and to keep
My own pace and rhythm to decide.
I was astounded how difficult it is
To really dance with Life and not to weep.

There were so many techniques to study
And sure I was, it will take the whole of my life
To learn to dance with the best slenderness
Flying along with Life, as it is Him who always
Takes the lead and steers you along your path.

But Life was so eager to take me to dance
So I went along and learned the lessons
The wondrous steps I will always remember
And yet I have so many to learn.

Shall this love only be my property
Acquired solely by my silly heart
Without, I will live in such poverty
I will be wrecked in this part.
Will this love only be my honor
Capturing pieces of my yearning soul
I see I can only be my wise doctor
And keep myself in dear control.

So shall this love flow
Staying together and slowly ageing
Shall it accomplish its wondrous growth
Before I feel the imminent fading.

I make art
With the thousand mysteries
Of my deepest feelings

I perform art
With the unconciousness
In the emptiness

Art from heart,
The purest urge
To free your soul
From every dip
Of the harassing reality

Art is what?
The purest need
To express the deep
Everlasting eternity.

The dimensions of human
are never ending play
and thoughts never finish
torn between thousand waves.

Where is the mystic limit
of life's ceaseless turmoils
from upper to the downside
you run your speedy wheels.

A night with brittle frost
covering the quiet earth,
a mysterious darkness flows
through the wandering steps.

Eyes on the vanished horizon,
still looking for the answers
from the outer and inner world,
casting the shadows of wonder.

Lightning up the way ahead
with his own gleaming heart
carrying an old antique book
as the most precious gift left.

The shadow of knowledge
is wonderful but how much
do we actually know?

The matter we perceive is not
a matter to another creature.
Constant change, everywhere
change of matter, change.

The great Tanzanian desert
flowing with sublime sweetness
caresses the mind of bias
with the mystic dunes of music.

The wind which plays shapes
blowing the movement of ash
but is it wind which moves?
The dune moves by itself.

As a walker stepping slowly
the dunes step wisely ahead
making 17 meters per year
a crescent on earth and in sky.

The moon, the sister of the dune
observes its everlasting shape
creeping along the dyne horns
sand cascading into half-moon.

The heart may sleep calmly
in a place where forest grows
the pureness and sharpness
of melancholic memory ride
suddenly guides you aback,
the silence of dropping blood
from the heart to the substratum
of a river's crystal hasty stream
and melt one with the universe.

Your escape to the beauty
to the universe in your mind
in the mountains of the white
among stars snow and fireflies.

There shines always delight
moments of wonder and bliss
like dark blue melts with light
a long pause in front of abyss.

Where does the journey end
or begin? You contemplate
to whom you weave longing
not for world to apprehend.

Belle road is your adventure
the voice not to surrender
and you walk, invisible path
steps vanish yet appear anew.

Sometimes the wind blows too strongly,
Sometimes the mind flows too quickly,
Catching the wind is a challenge,
From fairytales and fantasy,
Catching the thoughts,
Is a pure nightmare.
So you become,
Bewildered.

On a gloomy led weather day,
the sun rarely peeks from behind
puffy clouds, spreading its rays
stealthily before the rain arrives.

The garden flowers glow freshly
waiting patiently for their showers
on the porch you sit, observing gently
the day's and night's quiet hours.

On tiptoe, time passes to greet you
while robins dance amid the orchard
collecting diamonds in morning dew
singing with nuances, at life's guard.

The night-cold air embraces the soul
Drifting along, jumping over the imagination hole
Nothing seems reality. Where is the whole?

Stepping out into the bare world
Taking the melancholy along
Hovering around like an invisible bird.

Under the whopping sky
Standing in the middle of the universe
I rise my hands to pick a black rose
And let all the gleaming petals disperse.

Are we the blossoms of a flower?
Blooming but yet retreating
into our protected element.

Going through growth
do we need a plan
or do we just blossom
and find happiness
in the moments of life's
endless incessant swing.

Changing as the seasons
fly effortlessly yet diversely
by our perception of life.

Writing a poem
under the moon
Contemplating
on a wooden chair
The silky curtains
spread their wings.

I hear a voice
your call at night
echoing on walls
I leave the ink
and run down
over the meadows
over the fields
and the moon
lightens my path.

The woods is dark
but does not halt
my rush toward you
I run for a while
I run for years.

In your room
is a coffin inside
on top of it are flowers
a bouquet of liliac lilies
I don't hear your voice
anymore. It is dark.
I sit by there for years.

It took centuries
to reach you
and seconds
to love you.
The moon on the hill
is standing still.

In the dazzling sun
The delicate scent of a jasmine
Bewilders bumblebee.

Sliding down
the captivating dreams
hands on the piano
eyes in the sky.

Mind in fire of beauty
letting all burn softly
the inside of your soul
is mysteriously beautiful
fire is your energy.

Once you found
a broken mirror
pieces by pieces
you tried to repair it
but your hands
were on fire too.

And it is beautiful
how the mirror burns
as your reflection
evaporates into
the vast universe.

The feeling has not eluded yet
the rain not ceased or silenced
still you say somewhere far
that music, it engulfs it all.

In the bright nigh of spring
while all the flowers whisper
and water streams of happiness
life here is never meaningless.

The songs of birds and trees
the sound of pure liveliness
and you murmur, it recedes
when the music of heart bleeds.

One day. One night.
Pass by like the Northern Lights
One breath you take
Mesmerized by that mystic scatter.

One breath again
While tears fall in that abyss.
Why it is so dark down there?

The harmony of a violin
Is spreading its fair sound
Suddenly there is silence
And a snap of a broken string.

Yet nobody asked, how does it feel
When the strings of the soul cease.

You shatter the windows
and hold your hands
under the falling pieces
of my cracked heart.

How does it feel to feel
the millions of fragments
from every unlike window
of the once glowed heart.

How does it feel to feel
the pieces glowing now
to look at the reflection
of past, present and love.

The contradiction
Inside your mind
Cannot form a sentence
From these tangled words.
You make up an idea
But then tear it apart
Where does it all start?
It is a conflict
Between you and your mind,
Now in daylight you struggle
To reache the core
Of the sweet compromise
And the peace of mind.

Courage is not
an outward fire.
Courage
does not stem
from the outside
world.

Courage is coeur
the Heart.
Entwining inside
its diamond web
brittle to break
yet the strongest.
to withstand.

In flames is something in the soul
eating its way through the heart
cracking pieces from the whole
you cut it out from bleeding parts.

Night falls on clear cut ground
darkness is fading at the flames
at the distant melting soft sound
and darkness, the heart it frames.

You reach your hand above it
and walk on the lightened path
where every inch now glows lit
and wind calms the world's wrath.

Sweet Eros you are
the inspiration of love
in poetry. On the white
island among the sea
made of your deep
blue eyes and skin
of marble. Sweet Eros
your lush brown hair
and your prominent hands
of energy and beauty
the sweet smell of gardens
and fire elicited by you
on the island of deepness
and peace of mind
every sense of your
presence is love
for your Venus.

Generated by a swirl of streaming emotions,
The captive feeling which will never vanish,
And the start of nameless pure devotion.
The creative mind you unawares establish,
All those mighty creatures with great power,
Why are you trying to define the undefined?
Alas, it is just one petite everlasting flower,
Having smell of divinity and leaving you blind.
By the greatest gods it is named the wildest woe,
Yet it is the sweetest joy that confines your mind,
It will never be stopped as it will always overflow.

You plant the seed
of a light delusion
you plan to read
to make conclusions.

The seed is growing
you water the plant
delusions are bowing
in tortured mind's enchant.

Day by day they grow
strengthen their grip
you go along the flow
of delusion's craftsmanship.

In the rising sun
the beauty upholds
its stance,
but the pain
of humanity
is reflected
behind the moon.

The beauty is heart
as long as it has
wings and warmth,
the beauty is soul
as long as it has
sensitivity to hold.

The frenzy of
humanity
rises above
the moon,
but the sun will rise
in hope
every day
and create beauty
to survive.

Long are you waiting
the night stars to settle
as in the youth you see
always them glowing.

Staring the sky in quiet
expecting still but less
while nobody removes
the wrinkle on forhead.

You grab the meaning
of the dearest words
smashing them dingily
onto the cold ground.

Saying them before
eagerly so many times
until you only hear
a vague distant echo
of your own mind
speaking vaguely to you.

On a monotonous repeat
fast forward too many times
while you are not able
to count, as the words
have lost their meaning.

Their sense, essence, nuance.
The words become naked
not being aware anymore
where they left their beauty.

And where they belong
in the human made world.

The creative energy hidden
behind the many hundreds
of doors within yourself
waiting patiently, reluctantly
peeking out when the heart
confronts the body. Yet is
released within one surge
of the shower of stars and
awakening of the Universe.

Celestial skies render down
their silvery gifts of love
try to awaken the universe
once more as we pass by.

Falling out of weary presence
to the world of dreaminess
searching the love in steps
once made on the sandy shore.

The road in front of me
Extending. Diminishing.
Back and forth. But I walk.
I keep the balance. No talk.

Drops are falling through
The mirror. I see the face.
I ask silently. No words.
I answer silently. I break
Silently. It only hurts.

The dew-washed sun
Sneaks out from the horizon
As a new day shows
Its joyful accomplishment

You sit on the rock
Of the moon kissed valley
Under the vast eternity
Accompanied by Anguish
And Sadness on your ohter side

The time when the bell rang hardly
Resonanting through your subtle heart
Breaking it fiercely apart.
The feeling of hurt and smell of blood
You desparately ask for the help of god.

Hearing the voice of destiny
Calling in whisper, swarming in shadow
You must rise again from the pain
Like a phoenix from the dust.

In the fresh fields and foggy nights
Putting the pieces together again
Like a never ending puzzle
The smallest fractions will always be lost.

Where are the helping hands,
Where is my host?

It is only you who can acknowlege
The true answer of all
The help, masterfully built
In both of your shoulders
Grasping the pieces
With your languid fingers.

There is hope in every fragment
There is power in thoughtful mind
The time when you step out from your cave
You realise you have only love, you hate in vain.

The sunrays flicker on earth
diving nimbly through trees
casting their light in search
of time and life they seize.

Down this alley of memory
leaves crunching in silence
I once wandered longingly
searching the soul's balance.

Collecting crumbled parts
where lies the spirit of a poet
the glowing, shivering heart
echoing in the eternal moment.

I saw the stars
You saw the moon
the light was in between
but the darkness was too deep
so you became darkness
and left me heartless

Rain is flowing down the walls,
dripping on the marble stairs,
making music of the night echo,
the clouds fill the sky windows
soft curtains covering the world.

Clear mist is passing on the river,
hovering in the quiet moment,
coldness of the air caresses mildly
a space between the nature' s lungs,
the eyes of the universe are open.

Deep harmony penetrates the soul
of every creature listening deeply
how the world sings unceasingly
with its eternal beauty and peace
while the stars are dancing passim.

You swing the cradle
of your self-assurance
you attempt to avoid
unavoidable rawness.

You fear always anew
the invisible something
alive only in yourself
in the vastness of mind.

An unspoken parallel
draws diluted senses
closer to life's dwell
of essential existence.

The blessing Sun
Sets behind the horizon
The high call of a swallow
Keeps the secrets of the skies
Down there is a windy forest
The perfect shadow for lost souls
Through the spring crops
Arranging the steps
Or hovering in dreams
The slender trees bend closer
To welcome the stranger
Another lost soul
Looking for the door
Of Purgatory?
Who brought you here?
At the door of Fairy Woods
The sweetest symphony
Lies within
You hear the songs of love
You hear the songs of beauty.
Before you stand again
In front of the rising Sun
And down there is a forest
So calm and silent
Perfect tranquility and peace
But still a fairy song in your ears
Echoes far, or in your mind.

The kings scream on the mountain
where is all the salvation ending
the broken horses dash in vain
the clock in the water is pending

Oh and the water swallows all
it swallows all until waves recall
where they go and come
they swallow all
until you fall

When the wild rose is blooming
the lost fragments of memories
day's gown is slowly looming
lost beauties a night fairy sees

Oh and the water swallows all
it swallows all until waves recall
where they go and come
they swallow all
until you fall

And still you rise again
as you break the silver chain
and the broken horses lie
in the night sky not in vain

Those sublime flakes of snow
Flying down in a chaotic row
Tabbing  against the tender skin
Who, in the doleful end will win?
Sublime and sweet, the memory
Throbbing in grief too severely
I do feel the snowflakes of ache
Landing on the heart of rage
Not even trying to melt anymore
It's all too cold and bitterly sore.