A fiery red
Figure dances
In the half-shadows
Eager to come out
And dance with you

What you call
imagination, Dear
I simply call it
memory

she reads
the words and sleeps
in peace
for the first time since
chaos happened

He rides through
the forests the rainy leaves splashing
into his face leaving
scratches on his hairy cheek
the horse panting
his lungs exploding regularly and his
fist clenching
the glass ball in which
he thought he saw
the witch from childhood stories
taking away
his everything
he rides on pushes his heels
into the horse's flanks
in anguish in panic in
agony
for all he has he feels glides through
his open palm
and off it goes
So he rides and rides and...

Back when he was a little child and lay
on his back eyes open
in the dark in his bed
he always had his
palms open
never clung to any thing because
he was the one
creating the things
and he knew
whatever new thing he wanted or needed he could
with the blink of an eye
create

Now he rides makes the poor horse rush
through the dark woods to-
whereto?

The child rises

Whereto? Where does he need to go to-

Inside, stirs, opens the eyes-

He stops
The horse comes to a halt panting
relieved to catch up with his breath-

    They see each other
and the panic the agony the fear
drops
out of his
opened fist
to the wet
forest ground

The horse breathes
relieved

How I thought that
pain has a limit and
how
at some point an
amount of it will be
reached an
enough

How rough words and
hurtful deeds reach
a point where
you tell yourself that
you have nothing
to lose and how
from that point
onwards
it really dawns on you:

Pain has no amount
no limit
no borders or edges
no catch phrase
nothing that
time can erase

Pain
is
and isn't
and once you fully and honestly
let it be
it becomes
the same

It becomes the
other side of
the coin that you
kept and cherished and-
til then-
could't see wholly
and now do

It means you grew,
Dear

Outside the storm moves
things to new
beginnings
and lures me
to finally come
outside
too

❦

Who are you when you are
stripped of your
relationships
appearance habits
sports and hobbies
tricks
hits and
unpredictable blinks of the eye
dye your hair
it won't last

who are you
still
if every fast move you make
only ends
in vast
nothingness

who are you
when
everything comes to
a standstill
when every
single
story
you have told yourself and they have told
you comes to be unraveled and
dissolves

who are you
still
when everything you have known for
decades and longer
every pattern
every language
every person
every past and future tale and
fairytale
becomes
a fairytale at last and

who are you when
the vast
high waves
crush over your head and soak
you fully
through the bones
and

who are you

when the waters have
calmed down and
you perceive

the space