Of despair, open eyes and courageous hearts

You feel small and angry.
In a world that's big and cruel.
- A lake, dark and rough. Growling, resentful

At the imperfection
- no! Less ambitious than that -
at the sheer inadequacies of this world.

Bad design, useless design, mindless design,
- my suspicion: among us, creatures, camouflaged as humans, less the brains.
Blank faced.

Absurdity, absurdity.
A play of shadow puppets, but the play is no good.
And you wonder which one to choose:

Boredom
The essence of dis-engagement from the world,
A turning away, pessimistic nihilism.

Sadness
The retreat inward, a turning down,
Silent despair.

Anger
Hot and flaring fury,
A despair, loud and raging.

Threatening to swallow the world.

Your heart, pounding hard against your chest: “Wake up! Come alive! Breath, think!
Be alive with me, you idiot! Do not leave me to face this alone. “
Open eyes need courageous hearts.

And I need you.

Aletsch Glacier

Waves

I burn for your love
But I may not let the fire consume me

I crave your recognition
But need to find ways to satisfy my heart elsewhere

I desire that you may lay your eyes on my body and soul
And yet I need to make myself be seen

What is love but elusive touch
Leaving not but occasional waves of memories

Forest walk

Pressing my hands onto soft, moist moss,
Filling my lungs with earthy forest air,
The sight of the dense canopy and the dancing lights
Bring a surprising sort of clarity.

Not what I expected, not what I used to long for
Not what I believed my existence - my permission thereof - depended on
Moving closer to find less - less form, more freedom
An absence of the jarring, rattling, neon-lighted questions.

Like coming home,
Tired but whole, dirt on hands and cheeks,
Not a hero, and yet cloaked in the golden light of the parting sun,
My eyes resting on the horizon.

Just a forest walk - Fall 2018

Searching

Can you show me how to do it
Guide my searching hand
Until in all my blindness
I sight an incandescent strand

Can you show me how to do it
Without taking me from myself
Can you know this feeble heart
And yet revere my mighty self

Can you show me how to do it
A life well-lived, and death
To walk this world with vigour
As well as silence in my breath

El Medano, 2021

I think you wanted me to sing

What is wrong with me, dear lover,
Speak, what is the thing?
I am running -
But I think you wanted me to sing.

Creation is the Good
That much I understood.
It's what fills the world with meaning, what sprinkles it with joy.
It's what helps hold high this honour, it is what guides the way.

I am grasping, grabbing, trying -
damn, I so wanted you to stay
That day, was a creation,
That day, we came so close.

In the end, we never made it,
In the end, it just slipped by.
Look at me - still here, still trying,
And failing, every time.

On the way back to the madina, Summer 2019

Filthy streets, town without much heart.

My heart wants to cry
And my eyes are bleeding.

I'm leaving you behind.
I’m turning the page.

Cutting loose from your filthy streets
Town without much heart.

You have been good to me
Yet been my home for much too long.

You broke me
You built me up.
All in just one breath.

I am grateful
For the purpose you gave
This young and drifting soul.

I am grateful
For the lessons you taught
And the tools you gave,

For I'm walking straighter, calmer these days.
For my questions have become sharper.
And my maps contain more flags.

I am grateful
For the friction, the pushback, the critique,
Coming from places of deep affection and care, 
For they have fortified my soul.

The only answers
That ever withstood
The stare of doubt.

I am grateful
You returned to me the painter's palette.
The Colour. The Expression.

At the cost of making me weirder. Crazier. More different.
At the cost of exposing ways I’m below the web, and above it. 

Today, I care less.
And. So Much More.

I am grateful
For returning the words.

Words are windows, and they are walls.
Words that I lost, years ago.
Lost them without knowing.

Like the knight
Who leads his stallion by the hand
Instead of riding it.

For knights are meant
To conquer the world.
They are meant to do so
From the top of a horse back.
They are meant to ride,
Ride fast, and far, and graciously.  

For I'm not meant to be without words.
On to new worlds,
Faster, further, more graciously.

You broke me
You built me up.
One breath.

You fortified my soul.
The only answers
That ever withstood
The stare of doubt.

Today, I care less.
And. So Much More.

You have been good to me
Yet been my home for much too long.

Ride fast, and far, and graciously
Young Soul. 

— November, 2019

Memories of Nights in Deserts. Sand. Sun. Sky.

Patient Chasms of Life

I’m frightened of the thing that I’ve become; of the distance, the iron-cold that I’ve forged between us. What have I done, or have I done nothing?

And as we stand here, under the sun, my breath fogs up the wall of glass that has grown there between my heart and yours.

Through it, my gaze strokes your skin - just barely so -, and I remember the warmth that your arms once extended towards me. So readily, so abundantly.

Have I lost you? Are you there?

We do not understand each other. Words form the chasm arising between us. Worlsd moving apart, like tectonic plates shifting, over the course of aeons.

Or is it just the gushing waters pressing past us, furiously. The river of life, drowning our words in noise, before they even had a chance to be heard.

Our faces mirrored on the watery surface, light falling into our eyes. And we turn our heads, mere intuition, away from the reflection. Away from each other.

Human, that we are.

Maybe, we’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe, tomorrow is when we will meet.

Aare Valley - Summer 2020