on the mountain top

he waited

for the wind to rise

to pluck the pain from his

soul and heart

to tear him from the summit

to take away the sorrow

and the longing

and the hope

to leave him

empty

alone

hollow

Standing high

on the mountain top

he waited

I have sat here all night,

eating and drinking

and dissecting my soul.

I look outside

to search for the darkness,

and I see the sky

brightening

in the light of day.

What a surprise!

a waterfall through my fingers,

azure ocean in my wineglass.

I drink deep, filling my heart,

waves of blazing night,

still pools of clear ice.

My soul floats on sound,

drums pounding my blood,

a feather on warm breezes.

All things are within me,

a multitude of Oneness,

exploding in a rainbow.

deep deep

the blood sprays

rips and tears

you’re murdering your thoughts

tearing out your heart

cracking the bones

until nothing

nothing

nothing

is left

but emptiness

and yet there is light in your heart.

You drown in sorrow,

and yet there is laughter in your soul.

You long for love,

and yet there is so much love that you can give.

You close your ears,

and yet your inner voice speaks to you.

You move in violence,

and yet peace lies within you.

You are fractured,

and yet healing is not beyond you.

The day will come,

when all the pieces become one.

And the tortured soul

finds the balm that soothes at last.

threaded on a lacy doily

ice crystals have gathered

on the rim of the garden’s water basin.

The frost came suddenly, last night.

in which I develop ideas,

which I would never have had, alone.

Your view of things touches me,

so that I discover something within me

that I did not know until now.

Together, we search for solutions,

for the secrets, that make up our lives

and through which we will become wise.

One thought catches onto another,

one experience corresponds with another,

one form of speech underlines the other.

Accompanied by gestures

and carried by a theme  of searching,

a building of words is erected

which is home to us both.

I love the free conversation,

not bound with ideologies or dogmas,

only moved by the search

for a truth, which can be lived.

like a painter

spots the dancing leaves

with gold and green and red and yellow

making them glow

in the summer sunset

Most of my writing will be in English, since that’s my literary language. But some might also be in German, if the muse wants it so. So just read and see…