Freedom from desires that sprouts in its hide
freedom from something that bears witness to all that I never was
the image of which remains
taking a hammer to beat apart my own reflection and restart
as the one who willingly sees their own part
in the fraudulent game of illusions.
In another time we lit the light in hearts
in another time we loved as children of the sun
it was we that chose to open the gate to the fire’s origin to foster the power
that was the time that divided us in two
find me when the day lacks its light and a lonely moon is guarding a mind to stay
in a semblance of all that was.
Your body is truer than your mouth
words of the pseudo-self’s reality shows in substances portions of the I
riven by a character who is far from his true center spirals the self and never faces the own identity
release me from your network
mention my name when you go and leave all that is mine
so that no parts still hovers like ghosts in your shell.
Like in a feverish desire you drown yourself in your own wrongs
slurping up your imperfections to understand the organic to offload your unwanted darkness
like swamps in your inner that lacks a guiding light
the thought seeks itself slowly back to the words that shaped themselves
I want to carry myself over my own depths,
light up the crocodile’s gleaming eyes showing up in my reflection.
Born as a desire
in worlds where the gods dance and prepares love in form of a beverage
door to a river that never runs dry
like an angels transparency, veils are traveling
and freedom is letting the fire burn
throwing sparks whenever you lost your heart’s faith.
It was the fairy in me that danced in the woods
the rebel who escaped to take the fight
the beast that tore the throat because of hunger
the philosopher who calmly witnessed life under his tree
it was I who scorched my body in desperation to become visible, crouched in the night like a fetus and cried without end
it was I who fought until the oxygen ran out and jumped into the fire to flee
I who held the jewel of patron life and cheered by the good luck to find a home built by hardened hands
protection from the wild boar and a road leading forward
see, it is I who is waving in the distance
The scent of your warmth seduces me every day
like the shadow of your being
missing is close but begets the light of longing to find the silhouette that takes its form
running towards your ray of future absence
nutrition for a lost swan
in its own pond.