poetry

The sun loved me again when it saw that the stars would not abandon me.

Take hands.There is no love now.But there are hands.There is no joining now,But a joining has beenOf the fastening of fingersAnd their opening.More than the clasp even, the kissSpeaks loneliness,How we dwell apart,And how love triumphs in this.

I wish I could see a cherry blossom or a lotus flower. Where could they be?

Eagle's flight of loneliness soars so high Around its sigh, no more alone the sky Other birds remain away, clouds pass byBetween shrouds of life and haze sun rays die

I expect you to vanishup and up into the tree,a shake of the branchesand gone like youhad never happened.But you came down and handed me a leaf"from seven limbs up,already yellow," you said,and then you walked awayand you were still real.

i could go if i wantedshare the floorboards with someonein a place less haunted but i like it hereand i__ happy to stay in this mess on my ownin this home i have built for myself in my bones

Es sind tausend Tropfenin einer Weltnur für uns gemachtTausend Tropfenwenn der Himmel weintund man dennoch lacht

Burning the witch Giordano Bruno is one more wound inflicted on Christ__ body.

Everything and nothing are the same in the Absolute.

You bothered yourself and changed the season. I was left behind with your awful sounds.

Poetry?"..."No, just thoughts, glimpses, things running through my head.

Music gives inspiration...one that sounds windy with humming sound, such can put you in a trance, only to come back and discover some witty ideas.

Poetry is inspired by the elements of random thoughts, an overflow of gazing at the unseen.

Spirit is a child, the tune of dancing feet its lullaby.

I__ looking for youin the bare corridor where my shadow is the only passerbyharmonizing an unsettling whisper: echoed through my chiming thoughtsFrom the poem 'Looking For You

Night-time. Why is it, I wonder_ Always, always it is at night whenThe fury of a hurricane makes itself felt. Perhaps it is because the spirit of the storm Delights in the darkness, for there it can Unleash its rage most potently, most Anonymously, upon the element of earth? Or perhaps it is simply because we Humans are afraid of the dark.

TOMORROW__ WILLSilent world, I find myself,Glad no one hears my thoughts.In dark cocoon, I hibernate,Yet spirit spills every thought.A second chance to try again.The risks I know too well.Two sunsets turning into six-Awaits tomorrow's will.

Poetry has saved me on occasions when people couldn't.