Berlin

Berlin

Donnerstag, 6. Dezember 2012

In my thoughts


In my thoughts
every poem I write is for my mother
who does not read
who did not read
who will never read
not even my letters.
What I write,
is my love.
Its fragile but not for her.
What I write,
is the perfect nothingness.
If you stop breathing
you will have lost.
I swim in my anger.
I swim in a glowing fire,
it is energy,
the source of which I do not know.
It is pushing me forward.
To where?
In my thoughts
I meet the mates of my soul.
All of them have familiar faces.
I do not know them,
I do not know them after all.
After all that longing
I do not know them.
Mindfully I do not look at them.
My mirrored image in the desert
shimmers, like an old movie in black and white.
The path of possibilities ends
right here, right now
never
in total nothingness
and I keep the open questions in my arms
as if they were crying babies.
I can not do this without anger,
but I can do it without judging.
So much is possible.
If I sit with them long enough
I am sure there will still be no answer
but maybe there will be me
not asking any more.

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