Do you know how to
make the current rush
from your heart to your
toe and through
til your fingertips

Do you know how the world
likes to play with you

Do you know
all you thought
could be true,
Love

I looked at the sundown
and looked at my ***
and could't decide
which one I liked best

People hurt you because
they are
hurt
by taking it personal you
just hurt
yourself
let it sail on by,
Love
let it
slide

Jumping in and
out of
allowing
is the most
exhausting
state

Such a big light,
Honey
and so many
wide eyes
staring
so much time passed
hiding yourself
And so no wonder
Dear;
so many tears falling
now we are
out in the open

I cry today for
all those
hurtful moments
for  having been pushed and
having let them push me
into  fear of guilt

The good Things...

Do you deserve them - do you not deserve them
It is not even a question; it is an obstacle. Just another boulder to be dissolved;
but slowly, cautiously. Because this
One
Last
Boulder
Has been placed there with fearful force
And by many hands labouring
To block out the things
To have a buffer
Basically
to gain
time
to be able to get
Ready-

Now you know. You can breathe.
No force needed, Love.
Take your time and
Get
Yourself
ready

The Things will be delighted

❀

You walk towards the white door, this time more confident.
With a feverish look you pierce its handle,
your hand hovering centimetres above it.
You turn around again, around to what lies behind you.
What is past now, but still with you. Not forgotten. Not gone,
still with you, if you want to access it. All your loved ones, still there. What is gone is the fear; the bonds that were once built in such high voltage moments of panic and survival instincts - those moments.

And you take a breath,
calm, more or less.

With every step you gain confidence.
The night air smells of oregano and rosemary and dust. As you reach the lower, flatter area again, you are surrounded by more green.
The poppies’ red is more difficult to make out without daylight
but you add the shade of bright red
from your imagination.

A forest calls
for your
playful hands to touch
its leaves for
your skilled feet to tap
into its waters
It calls for you to come
and play
while rays of coloured light
caress your hair
and face
you rise up with
such grace and joy
my Love
that my heart bursts
in happy laughter

I want to erase
Everyone's judgement except
My own
And say that today
It exceptionally
Hurts
To remember

El viento te toca
Tu corazón se inflama
con un exhala de miedo
y alegria,
quando las calles, de nuevo,
se llenan de gente
jugando

This tugging on
your sleeve when
a strong feeling
arises -
now you might want
to release it

❦

Your heart, meanwhile, knew.

Your heart put up with all of this, beating all this time
for you
in a beat you could bear, but no more.

Life is not a beat one can bear.

Life is a beat that reverberates out from your heart
right into the other person’s chest and causes the feelings
to twist and tremble,
to remember their own existence and find their way,
bravely, up
and out.

It is a thrilling state,
enabling your body to generate a silent sound that can make
every
molecule
move
and let go of ballast, in an exhaling of pure relief,
a vibrant dance that is most beautiful when shared.

On a warm spring day you are walking along a riverbed, thinking. What is the next step. What is it. You are not waiting for a thought to appear to tell you when and how to take action. You are waiting, in truth, for your being to drop the last layer, to get ready and accept the power. The power of your very own voice, to create the world you want.

And why not value
your writing just as much as you would value
your body
an orange
a cement vase
a jar of honey or
a metal instrument
why not
bend
reality
to your own needs
and wishes
this time
why not
rhyme
your world into
a state of
being

[...] If there were shadows on the walls they would be dancing around what appears to be the most outrageous scenery in this whole liquid universe, the one spot of color which could be seen as color: in the center of the deep water lake, the still and tense water, there sits, like a satisfied child crossed-legged and full of sweets, a pink lotus blossom on a bed of its own green thick rubber leaves. This stunning sight contrasts everything else of what this cave accommodates in an almost exaggerated manner. It is a shrill primal artefact in the purest and most humble surrounding.
The flower is there by itself, unaccompanied by any other blossom or plant, and yet it could not be more at ease with its exact position and situation. The mere sight of it is the most pleasant image - if only due to its convulsing inadequateness.

[...] The silence here is so pure that even the dripping of the stalactites cannot interrupt it or rather, it does not disturb it. The cave is space, it is wide and indescribably dark. The water in it has a certain tension; it is quiet but tense like an animal ready to jump at the lion’s roar and run for its life out of instinct. The water has memory and knows how to be, how to remain and evolve. It is here in this stone-cold silence without imagining ever not to be here, or not to be at all.

I do not play
I-love-you-more-than games
I do not chain
the thing called love
to fear
It is
too dear to me
and thus I let it
roam

In my mind I see
a single
pinkish
petal
zigzagging through the air
according to a very
private logic
and I am stunned
by the beauty
of it

The moon has shown its crescent form; pale but warm light through milky clouds in the night sky. It felt crisp, and yet like soft touch. The moon beams at you, and your heart jumps at its kind expression.
[...]

Two shapes collide
one white
one black
and merge under
a brilliant urge for
change
under a heavy
crimson sky
while you now turn
your eye
inward

Down from
the earth a vibrant
humming sound fills
its spot makes
you gasp
propel hot
waves through
your legs up
into
your lungs
come
love
do not ever
stop

There is a huge pit of
burning fire available to you-
you better cut all
remaining ties
of fear
that fuel it

It will tare you to pieces regularly, it will take ages on one day and and seconds on another day, it will boldly and mercilessly confront you with layer after layer after layer of
Thick
Fear and then
That which lies beneath this fear, with all the shame in the world of touching nice things, with a heavy leaden guilt that has been hiding so well you barely recognise it, with a sadness so untouched and so exposed you barely dare to induce something else into it, with a
Fire
That scares you to the bone and at first catapults you into running, again, in awe and total, unspeakable - and unspoken -  horror.

Look left, look right. What is it that is really going on? What is this running about?
You look down to your feet. Where you have stopped, a nest of bluebells has grown out of the pavement and bravely snuggles into the holes of your white sneakers, its friendly and courageous purple almost seems to be greeting you. Only, you don’t hear it yet. The sidewalk has burst open in a kind of slow motion, and the roots of a nearby plane tree have cork-******* out of the concrete to breathe the air. Two ladybugs sit on a fresh cherry blossom, looking up to you.
Now look back, think. What is all the running about?

Colourful houses in
colourful
mountains
a cup of coffee
on the porch and
children playing
arguing and wild
discussions full of
life
and laughter
friends and
plants looking through
the open window
and me
and you
together in the middle of
all this chaotic
beauty

Is this just me or do you too feel like
no-one will play with you cause they are
infused with fear that
paralyses and do you
too have trouble to
differentiate whether it is
your personal mind giving you
this or whether this time
really
it is not you but
truly
everyone else

do you too have the urge to
pull everyone out of their
pale stupor and show them the
sunlight still there
do you too
have the urge to stand in the streets and shout look
at me my eyes are
not contagious

do you too have the feeling
something outrageous is happening here that
we have long
anticipated and
go through
now
in the most
disturbing way

or is it
really
just me

YOU don't need
anyone to tell you
how to grief
correctly how
to comfort a friend in
need how to
perceive the last deed of the guy in the news
that tore a
hole in you
for no
apparent reason
You don't need me to act
the way you feel
is right and ample
you don't need any bearded guy in any
temple tell you why
you're here
You don't even need to
finish reading
dear
get on with it
go
play the way YOU
like

Everything still
everything saying
you've got
time
every moment bringing
you closer to
truly understanding
this

Through the
heart of the earth
not the mind you can feel
it's a kind act
coming
from motherly decision making
from taking you
into a place of
collaborative
self-responsibility