The Dream

‘Twas at night, a quarter of a mile past you, in shadows dark as truth
Another dream painted as you, in colours bright, strings, harps and youth
Awake, I could not speak, I could not move. And all I saw was you
‘Twas at night, a quarter of a mile past you, in shadows dark as truth

I do not have the words to dream of you, how could this be, how could this do?
Awake, I could not speak, I could not move. And all I saw was you
‘Twas at night, a quarter of a mile past you, in shadows dark as truth





I seek among dusk's lies of a new dawn
Beyond the warmth of light and gloomy cold
Past steps of waltzing melodies they spawn
To bring to you the fables that they told
It's where I was so many times before
To watch the twirling dancers in their roll
That time I caught a glimpse and wanted more
I must have stayed too long, it took its toll
My walk is blind, there's nothing it can find
Not even just a glance, not ever since
I've seen it all, if only in my mind
And I am too afraid my eyes to rinse
  I understand that nothing is by chance
  And just like you, I'm nothing but the dance


Past Words

To make amends, to mend and share a pair of broken wings

Forget the words that bend and tear the air with hopes and dreams 

Past open doors, thin mirrors stand in fear of wholesome beings

It was not me, it was not you,  or so it seems


Rumi – I Am and I Am Not

I Am and I Am Not

I’m drenched
in the flood
which has yet to come
I’m tied up
in the prison
which has yet to exist
Not having played
the game of chess
I’m already in checkmate
Not having tasted
a single cup of your wine
I’m already drunk
Not having entered
the battlefield
I’m already wounded and slain
I no longer
know the difference
between image and reality
Like the shadow

I am
I am not
Until I meet you…..

Little Moments

[free flow  of ideas for now – not in poetry mood]

A tiny slice of time forgot for the briefest of moments to tread on. It only lasted enough for the heart of a hopeless lover to trap it, exposing its true colors, its immortal nature. It had neither been  lost nor sought but it was now trapped, frozen.

When we experience impossibilities/outliners, time skips a few slices. We cherish extremes because they define boundaries and make us say „aha!”. Of course, soon we forget and seek new ones, driven by the joy we experienced before we forgot. Also, we forget that we forget. Words, actions, consequences are easily left behind; rarely strong feelings. Love or hate them, we don’t want to let go. Subjectivity gives us a sense of uniqueness, of humanity. It gives us a backstory.

A single moment knows nothing outside of itself. Sunken within it, we become free for that one moment.  It is our expectation of reliving that single moment of bliss that drives us up the wall.

We are but little moments trapped in time, unaware of our own nature.




Amidst the mist metallic silence wept
A blinding white, a ghastly scene
Whispers, aground before they ever leapt
To speak what could have been

Echoes of aeons fell upon deaf ears
Scholar and fool, unknowingly allot
Dreaming in tears of emptied fears
By thoughts of time’s old plot