Far away
And I failed
“We live in a perpetually burning building, and what we must save from it, all the time, is love.”
Intermezzo zwei *
A picture is worth a thousand words. Many pictures are worth millions of words.
Still, no amount of pictures or words can convene what goes through my mind.
* Intermezzo in the pain. Intermezzo in the insanity of the chasm I put between us. Intermezzo in the hopeleness. Intermezzo to think, wonder, imagine. In between my current existence there's always you. In reality, always lacking stepping on the right flight, the right train, the right street. Even if I can see it, by heart.
Intermezzo.
Today I did catch a plane in the right direction, but overshoot the destination.
But this time I did not look at the sky, but tried to zoom into you. I do not know if you were there, but I hoped that, for a brief moment, you looked at some of the clouds, and wondered if I would be in that plane. I am allowed to dream, aren't I?
I do not know if you where anywhere in the radius. You might be now somewhere else in the vast world. But I did see where I saw you last. I recognized the streets we strolled. The gardens we unveiled each other. The roofs that protected us from the cold while we were cozy into each other arms.
I held my hand to the tiny window. And imagined you were doing the same in some other window. One with larger horizons, certainly.
I am allowed to dream, aren't I?
Fragile inside?
How can someone even dare. How could I have dared?
Today I would have said delicate. Definitely. Delicate inside. No different to flowers, needing to be nurtured, softly taken care of, so that through the seasons they can shine. But not fragile: rooted on strong branches, able to emerge whether there is pruning, hail or draught.
If anything, it's delicate as in delicatessen: layered, complex, subtle. To appreciate what I mistakenly, wrongly, absurdly named fragile, takes experience, attention, repetition, awareness, study, sensibility, empathy, appreciation, intuition. One does not go to the Musikverein and be immune to the sound. But to appreciate everything that is being seen, heard, felt, it takes effort. Unveiling all the layers in music, in theatre, in fine food, in a painting, in art, it's not easy. It's not obvious. But once done, like a complex number, it brings out dimensions we could only once have imagined.
Fragile inside? Neither fragile, nor just inside. Delicate, complex, hidden inside, but radiating once the right season and the right nourishment are present.
Strong outside.
At first, there's steadfast, ironclad spirit. I have countless times watched you walking from far. There is intent, no wandering. There is a firm posture, conviction at every step. Irrespectively of using high heels or sneakers, you can feel there is balance.
But that's just the first look. A closer look will also find that the look of your eyes is meaningful. You do not shy away at eye contact, ever. You do not hesitate after you decide to go for something. The handshake is firm. One can feel there is purpose in what you do, what you feel, what you dream.
Strong. And not just on the outside. Full stop.
I swear
I just saw you. It can't have been a dream. I clearly sat right next to you, spoke to you, heard you laugh, saw you smile. Listened to your anger. Softened your pain.
And woke up in the void, this parallel universe I am living on. Without you. Without reason. Without sense.
2 years ago I was waking up and coming to you. And I keep counting the days to the unlikely and unknown bliss of seeing you again, even if just for a brief moment, so I can say I am sorry.
I am.
Very vivid dreams
I once told a friend that nothing really ends
No one can prove it, so I'm asking you now
Could it possibly be that you still love me?
And do you feel the same
Do I have a chance of doing that old dance again?
Is it too late for some of that romance again?
Let's go away, we'll never have the chance again
nothing
I can do.
My chest is compressed with my own thoughts. I'm absent, and can't stop repeating that to myself. I'm away. I am not where I should be.
I wish the tide would take me over
and i remain silent. bloody silence.
Teardrop
I should stop worrying about the war, and start instead caring and carrying you.
That could be in my hands. Instead, I spend days and nights praying and hoping for things that are not within my control, rather than acting on important matters that are in my reach.
I am a miserable person.