along the way

Confused in the chaos of my own thoughts— I drift (among the motley crowd) toward the quiet harbours of solitude. I speak with the night— and in the monologue I divide into a thousand seeds that enter me. With words I try to warm them. I dare not, even for a moment, fall silent.

The true monologue is to discover the words within you—as if tasting every drop of pollen from the stamens of meaning's blossoms, urging you toward a purpose. There is no greater pleasure than the newly awakened rapture of thought before the beauty of form—essence (meaning).

HEDGEHOGS OF WORDS “The feelings bristling within us, beyond a shadow of doubt, think us over.” HOPE FOR SAFEKEEPING And you found no one to love you here, now—without panic or weariness. And you found no one to clothe you in words—silence and intimacies. You could not withstand solitude and gave yourself up— ignorant, everyday life. Only your sadness you kept— melancholy for safekeeping.

They had nothing in common today— two children, a marriage and twenty years of budgeting. They had nothing in common today— solitude and a lie and a needless rope. Weak alone and helpless together… they had nothing in common today— only a private confession, a needless presence, needless suffering, redemption without punishment…

Who are you? after loving… Who are you? after hurting… Who are you? after losing the days you gave away… Who are you? after once again pulling yourself together and going on… Who are you? after leaving… Who are you? after making a mistake… Who are you? after your children… Who are you? after trying to create the world… Forget it— does it matter to keep sailing? You move away in order to draw near…

Are you looking for yourself?! You gather fragments: sound—thought—image, sediment left from dreams— and you remember. Are you looking for yourself?! New, having forgotten anew pains—ecstasies, drowned, pounding and choking— and you remember. Are you looking for yourself?! Alone, turning your back on time, you discover pieces of yourself, having rummaged through alien wreckage— and you remember. Are you looking for yourself?! a vagrant, your soul outstretched for alms— and you remember.

SOUL With ebb and flow it spills itself… Rises—waves. Breaks and suffocates… Takes in winds, rigid in its emptiness. The rays of day caress it—it evaporates. It breaks into the day, scatters into foam, and returns at night as moonlight… PATH

It scatters, branches and looks for itself. It is absent from the moment of dwelling, and hard it is to declare itself, and painful— its soundless appearing…

Where is he? —there, (aside from the frantic race). A spectator watching his own falling behind. He bets on his opponent and secretly hopes he will win, and feels sorry for himself…

You see nothing. The blurred words do not speak; they stand and quarrel at opposite poles: Eternity or Death, Sin and palms— the palms bleed. Birth and Death string ellipses. And then—spelling, grammar and form— flesh, and after flesh there is a vessel— a MAGIC PITCHER.

You fly forward, intent (a brief impulse), to embrace—captive— the World. Winged by a dream, spellbound by passion, you wander along painful paths. Today you sit silent, mute—eyes closed (no impulse—alas), to rest—drawn inward— within it: the World. Moved by fates, diminished by sorrows, a labyrinth travelled in the rootwork of silence…

He swallowed him like clear water— fresh sips— and with them extinguished you. He swallowed him like warm broth— sweet sips— and with them quenched you. He swallowed him like a dry crust— heavy bites— and with them wounded you. He swallowed him like bitter wormwood— sharp sips— and with them saddened you. He swallowed him… And inward, further inward, it grew empty, it grew quiet, it grew slow… He borrowed a sip of air, staggered. And once again took up his cup— bottomless, with a smile…

Silence— an empty room. You pour out solitude. You sway in a mirror-world of a thousand faces. You walk the crooked paths, seek no others— you flee where no one has ever been— you do not wait. At the gate you will meet yourself eye to eye, and you will peer into your own pupils, and you will sink, and you will merge, and you will melt across the irises of infinity…

The wind's sigh— nestled in the breast of a sailor… Crumbs of silence— left as food for the birds… Your time— waiting for a ticket to depart…