Poetry
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believing?
The attachement, the security, the hope, when so much seems lost. All that is irrevocably gone. Where was the warning? Where was the hint of what would happen? Now it’s too late – it seems.
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Loneliness
Loneliness – I feel this dull loneliness. A melancholic echo – a bitter dreaming. Surrounded by people and yet alone.
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Let myself dream
I still want to dream. I still let myself dream – when I wake up, I won’t go back to sleep.
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You
You touch me as light as a feather with your words, your thoughts, your laughter.
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Power of the moon
Over and over, again and again. Again and again every day – all year round. Shining so dull and so lovely.
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And always hope
The price of sharing was paid again – the price of writing The price of thoughts – the price of feeling connected The price of reflection – the price of Being.
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Lucid Dream
So I stand here and ask myself, as I have so often before, whether I want it, why I want it and what I actually want. There is this thing that seems close when it is so far away, that seems similar when it is completely different, that seems connected…
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How to kill an Alien?
But there are dreams for these kind of thoughts… In this holy world – Aliens don´t become Angels – Aliens be Aliens.
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On the happiness of descending
The wind in my hair is my addiciton
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Easy life…?
Why is this so easy for you?
Critique of pure dream 