apparitions & reflections

Apparition (2015)
Apparition (2015)

Beneath all the layers of my mind, there rests the universal question: who am I? I see countless people, every single day. I see them walking, I see them running to cross the road, I see them standing in line, waiting for the show to begin. Among all these people, I stray down a solitary path. I know who I am, and what defines me. I know, from the innermost depths of my being that I exist only to give love. In moments like these, I know my purpose, I know why I exist. Should I allow this vision of myself to be altered? Should I let it rest hidden inside the darkest closet? Or should I set it free?

They say when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. My life flashes before me every single day of every single week. What I did wrong, did my words make a difference, did my words hurt somebody? Someone told me once this could be a burden, this way of being is simply going to hurt too much- it cannot be sustained. I remember a long time ago, I was working with some children without any families. When you look inside the eyes of a lonely child, you see a different sort of wonder. Besides everything they have been through, they show a special resilience. There was a little boy there; he waited every day for me to come so he could play games on my phone- his eyes would go wide at the very thought of it. He worked so hard and then those last, small moments, he would save for this.

What haunts me is that millions of people live their lives without knowing the simplicity of feeling pure emotions. There are many words attached to it; naivete, in some people’s case I’ve heard stupidity. It may be purely Utopian to believe such emotions should be felt and treasured. Nevertheless, it is essential. My greatest nightmare is to walk the streets like everyone else one day, suddenly; to let my hopes die and see them scattered about me, flying away, piece by piece in the winds, until no longer seen.

Sometimes, the stories end, my words are cut short. Sometimes, there is too much to be said. Sometimes, everything is contained within a single jar of glass, keeping everything, showing everything. Some memories; lying free over the grass, watching the sun set; some memories, walking down the tracks, waiting to meet somebody after a long time; some memories, sheltering underneath a ledge to hide from the rain; some memories, grieving, grieving deeply for the time wasted, the time lost, the time spent shouting… some memories; quick and flashy, some long and bitter, some full of passion and struggle. Some memories, waking early to see someone lying next to you…

Life is short, too short for anything but living it with a passion incomparable; head on, jumping in, taking it, grasping what is yours, and then holding it steady, then taming it, breathing it, joining it and then…

Then letting it live inside you.

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a letter in absence

Another Heart (2015)
Another Heart (2015)

I walked along the river today. My dearest love, these words are withering under the glittering sun. I miss you so dearly. As I walked along the waterway, I thought I saw your reflection on the waves. They teased me, if I reached out to touch, they fled from me. Then from afar, they beckoned to me, mischievously. My dearest heart, were those your wings I flew on? Did my weight burden you? We flew for too long. We saw the world from the topmost spires. The organ wept in the cathedrals below us; the keys were beaten, the notes, they wept; the notes, they were ferocious in their sadness. My voice, it cracked, and songs, broken and withered, were pulled out of me, out of the deepest depths of my soul. I beat on the music, I urged it; enraged, I beat on the notes; furious why I couldn’t fly; why my wings lay broken; why my heart no longer felt. My love, if this was yesterday, I would have given into you like no other. If this was yesterday, I would have taken you to the heavens; I would have sang to you songs of fire, songs of a wild, wild rush. I would have carried you on my wings, taking you, craving you; right into the skies, to the moon, burning like stars- I would have taken you. If it was yesterday… My love, yesterdays; ghosts, whispers and echoes- yesterdays; lights glowing softly, curled up in bed with a book, with a cup of steaming tea; laying next to you, head resting on your chest, hearing your heart beat- a scent I cannot forget, a touch I cannot stop feeling- laying in an infinite world, clouds soaring in through the open window- yesterdays… My dearest heart, love wanes. Memories come and they go, leaving behind soft footprints you can follow for some time on a slow day. My dearest dear, echoes will not stumble forever, ghosts will not always haunt; faces will eventually disappear; rust and dust and broken trust; they will win. They will win. And where will we be then?

…ghosts

Atlantik (2014)
Atlantik (2014)

There was a place we used to go. Midnight, the stars were out, strewn like gems into the darkness. The gods had been busy. Late night, a slight cold swept over me. Behind the misted windows, I could hear laughter. A little wistful, as if I too wanted to laugh, I moved closer. Moving silhouettes, the crack of a door opening, sharp, a chord, a bass filtered out, touching the air, making me smile.

Flashback. Fast forward. Today or tomorrow. I no longer knew. Whose face and whose touch? Who smiled and who let go of the sorrow? It was the night we spent, the night we loved. It was the whisper of the sheets, the footfalls, it was the scent in the wind. It was a conversation, a kiss forgotten. It was the smile, taken, taken away from me.

So we sat all night. We spoke all night. The dew from the grass soaking through my dress. The stars came down, I swear I saw them, they came down, they drenched me in magic, drenched me in sorrow. What of the past, what of the future?

Whose face now, and whose tomorrow?

Photo: Freiburg, Germany

Berührt

We slept and woke up in the same bed, side by side. It was cold, I woke up cold. This was new for me; my idealistic impressions of the world… fast fading. I was underwater and I was surrounded. How and when does it become so cold? I knew what I asked for. And did it sting, it sting.

Did I crumble beneath his weight? Did he fall into me and let me go? Yes. Like shattered bits of stone, it pierced my soul to the very end, it pierced me. Do you love? Do I love? Did I love? Yes. Yes, yes I did. We loved and we said nothing. Each moment, each moment I look back, I laugh. There is madness on this wind, can you smell it? The stench is so strong, it lingers, haunts, destroys. It destroys.

Small words. My friend, my lover, people like me are crazy; we are entirely mad. Searching for something, searching so hard and I thought you could help me find it. I thought you could, I thought you almost could. After the sun rises and the darkness has passed, we look back. We see the remains, we see the ruins. What has been achieved and what of the destruction? Did you think, did you stop to think? Some people feel. Some people love. Some people walk away, some people run. Bickering inside, boundaries are drawn, swords shall not be sheathed. What did it mean? What does it mean? Is the mystery solved? Let’s go, you and I, let’s float, let’s look away.  I can’t wake up like this, can’t wake up alone, even in the shadows, there is a life, there is something dark and sinister, waiting to take a bite, waiting…

So let’s dance, let’s dance with this wind. Let it take us, let it sway us, let it persuade us, slowly.

Fallen King

Fallen King (2014)
Fallen King (2014)

There’s something in this silence. An awakening, when it’s still dark outside. Is that a hint of some light, a long lost star finally finding its way back? One day this has to stop, the lost stars have to find their way back. One day, this has to stop…

He is the fallen king. There is a chill in his embrace. Reaching out, I hit a wall, I stumble. I try to come closer, there is resistance, a force that stops me.

There is trouble in the air. There is a restlessness. There is a falling, a losing, a frustration. Transitions and new things, it’s almost like poetry, almost. There is a lesson, hidden somewhere. Don’t I know it? Would I learn it?

Photo: Burg Hohenzollern, Germany