Remembrance of life in all its spectra
i felt the snow outside my window before i looked
a new and yet so familiar quietude
settling in the air
calm and cold
stalled me in my doings
a smile appearing on my lips
as i walked to the window and peered outside
to a scenery, crawled under a white duvet
of hibernation and serenity
filling the spirits
with a joy gladly revisited
He looked at her and there was something in his glance; the power of it almost frightened her. It was that emotion that had been steadily building between them ever since the night he had appeared at her window. A feeling beyond love, beyond passion. It seemed to lay its fingers on her very soul, causing her to shiver with breathless delight. Wendy still did not fully understand that part of herself he had awoken. It was too vast and dizzying to contemplate. The depth of her feelings towards him was boundless, unrestrained, almost terrifying in its disregard for limits.*
the music reached deep and far within her chest
and pulled forth a long silk ribbon from the deep
tears welled from her eyes
her chest constricted
her mouth opened
and she cried at the tragic beauty of it all
and i wonder once again
will anything ever touch me?
have i grown so accustomed to this inner world
that i have grown estranged to the outer one?
as if every unseeable, untouchable molecule inside of me
is more tangible
than anything outside my skin
as if every ghost of imagination
is more real, more feeling
than anyone i meet otherwise
a sensitivity split
have i lost my mind
or lost myself to my mind
or is it one and the same?
i may never know
i can never be sure of my own answer
we are all made of sadness and stardust
but i pity those who only wrestle meteors
and wish for shooting stars
they do not see the beauty in being
nor accept solitude
the sharp edges of the meteors
grating into their hearts
making them react to others
with elbows made of gravel and rock
and they do not see that every star that falls
is every tear from the ones they hurt
I may not have faith in any God or know the purpose of my existence – other than I exist.
I have faith in humanity and I doubt humanity. It is as beautiful at it is ugly. Destructive and creative. Self-destructive and self-creative.
Such gentle, self-sacrifizing and compassionate spirits that have lived and walked on this Earth. Such cruel, hateful, all-destructive souls who have crushed everything, including themselves, on their paths. All have left footprints in the sand that lead the way or that we sink into and drown.
Humanity binds and unbinds itself in an eternal cycle until it is time for it to perish – billion of years into the future.
So strange to think of time like that; to think of the landscape billions of years ahead. What will we have made the earth into? A nightmarish, dystopian scenery? Of nullified poles, enlarged seas, desert-like landscapes of land; overflowing with trash from the past and new wars to fight?
Will the earth return to us or must we return to it?
How altered we must have become as humans as well by then. So far from our conception … or perhaps even closer to it?
The human mind will never be able to see that picture clearly before the time is right.
Until then, I hope humanity doesn’t manage to destroy itself. I hope it saves itself.
I stand by and watch it fighting against everyone and itself. As long as it exists it will keep fighting. I try to find my place in it all and help the best I can, knowing my voice will never be enough. I wish I could do more. But I’m only human.
Yet, even the gods throughout time have proven to not be enough.