I have not learned
to live, I got used to it

all in all an attempt
to be myself

with friends

who don't make demands
and are available

when I come or call
that I am lonely

With you, my attempt
to a relationship is different

Sometimes it goes well
thoughtlessly, by itself

so that I don't know afterwards
if we were connected

Sometimes I think about it
and I get lost in my mind

then, there is certainly
no contact, and I must

embrace you, feel the firmness
of your body to believe in us

I'm not preaching, I go
my own way
not really, because where
I go is already a way

I'm not preaching, I have
mixed feelings
about what I know
I'm not near-sighted

and not preaching, I cast
anchors, thousands
of buoys everywhere in the sea
for those who want to rest

in familiar words
being human together

if happy, happy together
if sad, sad together
if tired, strong together
if alone, not alone

Nobody notices it
yet, but I have it in me

the brilliant ideas and the authority
to let things run

as they should, worked out
in detail in my reports

My promotion is a matter
of time, my work will be seen

it is already there
in my head, ready

to announce, politely
taking everyone into account

yes, I adapt myself, I wait
for the right time

and prepare everything
I see it in my mind

I know how the world works
and when the time comes, we can

all be satisfied

The plaster pulls the skin
my colour, my moles
and careful make-up
from my face

red
living flesh
looking eyes
expressive lips, my mouth
smiling at you

And you scan my mask
three-dimensionally, you hang
a field of registration points
on the red markings
at my eyes, nose, and chin

You trace back the dots
to feelings, then you look
at me, understandingly
From the void
of my eyes and mouth

the black holes
in the information
I try to express
what you can't see
Still, they don't show anything

The world is divided
but I learned to tie
the pieces together
      
to patterns, and still
I saw more and more differences
so I tried to be connected
      
in religion and the One
soul of mankind
in which you have to believe
      
because it cannot be seen
in the divided world
in which I live, surviving, and
      
the other is a stranger
however much I know about him
even if he is my dearest
      
there is enough to guess
I call it secrets
that comes close
      
to the mystery

I knew the outside world
from stories: there are forests
and foreigners, mean people too
but there is always someone
to help, and I learned

you can be a hero
it's about the outcome
(the blessed life only starts
  with the happy end)

That's how I grew up
and the world grew along with me
so that my outside world got further
and further away, and I learned

daily life is boring and
it is unfeasible to be a hero
But my son wants
me to tell something exciting

so I get brews
from the magicians of stories
I stir and boil them up
let him feast

eager
to be soon grown-up enough
to go into the wide world himself
travelling to the happy end

and I keep silent about how far it is
and that it is shifting every day
away to the future
in which we don't figure

She's just sitting there
as a strong magnet
people come and go
home healed they say

She must be a saint
a new one, who is among us
She doesn't need anything, gives
everything right back again

People who give hope
receive hope, people full of love
get even more love
the disappointed leave

deeply disappointed and with their own anger
she knocks down aggressive visitors
Wishes and curses bounce off
her, so full of everything she is

a black star, a full void
where is no more space
complete gravity, visible
in everything that she strikes back