Words are wonderful.
They can make you
Click with the world
They describe.
They connect.
They define.
They distinguish.

But those precious toys
Are much more than this:
They can imagine,
They can shape your mind,
They can communicate,
They can convey emotions, feelings.
Every little shade of your soul
Can have a word to express it.

But sometimes people do not think
About those strange tools.
And so words lose meaning.
And so they do harm.
And so they divide people.
And so they are removed
From the ever-flowing flux of life
And turned into
Political artifacts
Religious dogmas,
Or prescriptions
Of an ambitious moral system.
When this happens
Something in the wonder of words
Is lost.

What's that missing miracle?
What's the cause
Of that Fall
Of language?
Life is the answer.
That's what missing.
That's the ever flowing source
Of words themselves.

When you remove them
From their natural place,
They die
Like flowers in a dark room.
Meaning is lessened,
The world do not click.
You give meaning to meaninglessness
And you can not
Give meaning
To what meaningless is not.
Triviality seems meaningful,
While meaningfulness seems not.

But when everything runs
In the right way,
Wonder flows from every corner
And the world seems very much
Like an open book.

I have been
Bent on myself for years.
Thinking deeply about my thoughts,
Thinking hardly about myself,
Thinking and thinking
About my life.

It's been a long journey,
It's been so long...
So much time has passed.
So much change I endured,
So much struggles I won.

Now I am rising up.

I am not bent
On myself anymore.
I am free.
Freedom flows into me
Like a much-desired gift
In spite of pain and jadedness.
I want to be free.
I want it.
I
Want
It.
So simple.

And if sometimes
The world seems a bit stormy,
And the waves
Of your consciousness
Wind up in your mind
Don't worry: just surf.
Surf on them, be strong
And be aware
That when the storms end
The world will seem
Beautiful again.

And you will be
Even more beautiful.

The Passions are not gone away,
But they are a bit sleepy now.
I am so tired
That I prefer Quiet to Joy,
And Calm to Enthusiasm.
I am not detached,
I  just have to be on my own
For some time.
Love has to lessen its intensity,
And so does Friendship.

I think I'll go on a holiday
From Reason and Theory:
Plain Common Sense
Is a good friend of yours,
Don't you know?
Empathy!
Better turn you off too,
For some time,
Some very long time
Of quiet On-my-ownness.

Language is tricky
When you become too serious
About what words mean.
Thoughts are like tiny fishes:
They flow aimlessy
And not everything
Has to be picked up.
Introspection is cool,
But Spontaneity makes
The world go round.

And you know what?
I am just satisfied
With my life
In low-cal version.
This is not
An appeal to moderation,
Nor an eulogy of apathy.
I am just saying
That happiness
Is a much softer pleasure
Than outbursts of joy
And hedonistic delight.

So sleep the passions of my life,
Calmly and softly.
And I watch them in awe.
Everything is so good,
When the Passions
Are not Gone away.
But they sleep so well.

I know it's alright,
And everything
is going to be fine.
I know I am loved,
And I love too.
I know my life
Is almost easy now.
I know pain is gone,
I know I am stable,
I know I am strong.
I know who I am,
My little piece of world
Seems to me more stable
Than ever.
And it is.
Everything is so quiet.
I know what I am doing
And what I have done.
I even know what to do
In my future.
Good, good, so good.
No problems at all.
But I just want to sleep.
To keep this still calm outside
Inside me as well.
I want to make it mine.
And so I am quietly
Sitting on my bed now,
And I know all these things,
I know even more.
Everything is beautiful.
But please let me sleep now.

I am not controlling
My life,
Nor the world,
Nor the words and actions
Of all these people around me.
Still I am in control.
Still every word makes sense,
Just as it always had.
Still their actions are clear,
Plain and intellegible to me.
I have an identity, somewhere.
But I don't bother to find it.
Everything just fits.
And I am not really supposed
To explain why.
Maybe this vertigo
Is the last sigh
Of my controlling self,
Slowly fading
In this new found peace.
Maybe it is the beginning
Of an emancipated self,
Free and calm.
Maybe this vertigo
Is another name for freedom.
We can call it
Freedom, or Liberty or Self-determination.
Maybe the cultured man
Will think of Euthymia,
Or some other label
Of Stoic wisdom.
Be like that.
Maybe it's an ending.
Maybe a beginning.
Probably, both.
Maybe it's just beautiful.

I feel almost weightless,
As I notice all my problems
Fading into the nonsense
To which they belong.
Serenity reigns,
Everything is calm now.
A deep sentiment of rationality
Pervades my mind:
Everything is in the right place,
Everything is in the right time,
Everything is in the right order.
Everything makes sense.
Everything is just fine.
Everything seems so quiet,
So calm and still,
That I feel like
Nothing could ever affect me.
I am ethereal-minded,
I am like sunset on a lake,
I am like the breeze on my face,
I am like a deep underwater cave,
I am almost weightless.
And that's the best I've ever had.

Time heals our hard times.
Time softens our hardships.
Time makes the past stay dead.
Time makes us live the present.
Time tells us who we are.
Time makes us accept who we were.
Time makes some people unimportant .
Time makes other people unique.
Time connects the dots.
Time makes things click.
Time shows us what's real.
Time dissolves ghosts.
Time makes us forget forgettable things.
Time makes us value what's valuable.
Time gives us perspective.
Time makes illusions crumble down.
Time shows us that true dreams are solid.
Time is all you need, my friend.
Because time heals..