In confession to Elisa.
Spirit
Sparkles ‘round the fire, the iron
grows susceptible to their heat.
Flames are warm, yet my eyes
get quickly burnt at every sight.
Passion surrounds me, I drown
in a devastating atmosphere.
Sound is arousing, and my heart
pulsates faster than its rhythm.
I see what is not, a soul
irradiates between my arms.
Hands are pure, yet they lack
yours to be complete.
Ink Spots
There's no room for other words:
this thalamus of ink spots
has its thoughts covered in pages.
Leave out the pleasure, I don’t want minds
to enter inside mine:
it takes away my will.
Climb in the sheets, I know you want me
to draw my pain, my reason,
but the more I do
the more I will get wounded.
Forcefully done, my voice
leaves the room for other lips.
Saviour, Save Me
“Saviour, save me”;
‘tis a reasonable call,
yet in misery I whisper.
My hands are deep
in the current of the river,
and I cry all my illusions in the moving light,
‘cause I cannot grasp one single tear.
Is the reflection shining with my ego,
or is it just Nature's sightless play?
a thought thrusts into the stream:
“Why can I not hold my very own self?”
Maybe I should only caress
the surface of the blue,
and get so silent in my soul
that I become a ray of silence in the forest.
Your Fear of Being Forgotten
Your fear of being forgotten
is but a mere devil's play,
in the desert, sand is buried
on top of sand, and every grain
in its place by the wind is placed.
It is not with perfect grace
that dunes fall on each other,
but it’s trough past and future
that the dried sea has decided
what shape itself to shape.
Lightest is the grain that on the current
knows that by the current it's being drawn,
and that none of the sands below
has chosen what part of the land
they landed on.
Follow the wind, it will lead where
in the deep, the deepest sands
you can embrace the desert whole.
Heartbeat
Thy hands are soft as Mary's,
every time they run through my hair I think
about the words your lips speak gently
in my ears, easing me
to your inevitable presence.
Somebody said we cannot be together,
and yet I feel you were with me
every time I voidly laughed at life.
Nihilism is our belief,
but out of fear, a lack of reason.
Intelligence is useless around you,
heart’s quieter than thoughts, and so
I must listen to his whispers:
thy name,
your rule.
I breathe, my eyes point to the ground,
I'm a living creature and yet
I feel the most relief
in thy embrace,
Death.
