as the summer echoes fade and twilight wins terrain
before I realize, the darkness gradually
leads us towards the center of our trail
in the darkest of the night, the brightest stars revealed

lights like mirrors of the sky, illuminate the way
how distant can it be, the image that we see
as we surpass the highest peak
the slope that leads us home is where we test our will

Let me just remain on right here on the edge,
where I can see – the horizon in full
clear and bright –
staring at the world – all within my reach
in this moment of peace
before the time takes over

as the still of white makes way, for fields that overflow
the summer lies ahead – before I even know
the longest day will shed it’s light to waste
though swiftly passes by – will leave us with it’s lasting blissful taste

one and the same

ghost from the past
where did you come from overnight?
face in the crowd,
suddenly clearly in my sight.

the world frozen still –
while my mind spins back in time
I look behind –
catching the glance that’s seeking mine

and I know that you know,
that we both were in that place
where a body and mind
are one and the same

how life has passed
didn’t you notice on the way?
no time for doubt
all that we see is all there is.

and the light in your eyes
strikes a fire to the bridge
on the river in me – and I slip and fall
and get pulled down the stream like I did

out of sight out of heart for so many years
yet a void in the core of what made me to be
who I am where I stand it is suddenly shaking
the ground beneath my feet.

and a hand reaches out
pulls me up on the shore
On the pavement we stand – once again
near the edge while the people rush by like the water

all the steps that I took to the place where I’m now
How the path took a turn, and I followed it down
how I sailed with the wind and I ended up stream
in a place that is all that I know now it seems

The world picks up speed –
while my mind returns to now
I look behind –
catching the glance that’s seeking mine

and I know that you know,
that we both know that face
and our body and mind
are one and the same

a crazy thing

It’s a beautiful day outside and I had nothing to do with it. – I’m inside a room, where I sit on a chair with my head in the clouds. Up there I tumble around, to look for the source, the source from which to create. It’s a crazy thing, that thing which is desire, that sets us on fire and moves from within. The electrifier of every wire plugged in, that makes this world spin. – Currently, I long for being outside, out where the sun would caress my skin, and the breeze gently blow away the clouds of thoughts from my mind. How wonderful would it be to be there, outside.. But I’m inside, enduring the longing, pondering the longing. It’s been too long since I didn’t care. I can’t go because I wait for a sign, the sign that tells me my task is complete. the sign that tells me “you’re free! You can go anywhere that your heart wants to be…” but it takes sitting down and drudging the drudgery to get where your heart wants to be. So I stay here and dwell in misery while the sun is laughing at me. The more I think about it the more terrible the thought of missing out on this day, knowing that tomorrow it’s gonna be over.. the sky might be grey, and the world surely spinning at full speed again, not allowing me to even remember the gloriousness of this day.. so full of possibilities, all left unused.. It’s a crazy thing, to want to do what you do while missing out on so many good things in each moment, in anticipation for an unknown good sometime later – It’s such a beautiful day outside, and I had nothing to do with it..

Een hommel dreef mijn kamer in
Op zomergeuren met een vleugje benzine
draalde bij de gordijnen
en streelde de kozijnen
Waaide langs de schommelstoel
en dreigde te landen op de papyrusplant

Zoals een hommel zonder plan
gewoon een beetje drijven kan

Living the dream

Over dromen van dichtbij en het verlangen te verdwalen.

01-09-2011 // De telefoon is een slechte vervanging voor het voelen van iemands hand tegen je wang. Ook telefoon met beeld via de computer. Een digitaal gezicht in tranen, een hand die naar je reikt en als hij bijna bij je betraande wangen is het beeld vult en wegneemt. Weg, ver weg ben je – mijn persoon die als enige niet toevallig is, persoon die mij kan helen en breken, die nu tweedimensionaal zijn best doet de lege ruimte te vullen.

Het is nog vroeg. De rest van de wereld lijkt nog niet door te hebben dat de nieuwe dag weer begonnen is. Mijn lichaam voelt zwaar. Zittend op de stoel achter mijn computer, worstelend met woorden in een tekstverwerker, ze steeds weer van volgorde veranderend; zittend achter een piano, mijn vingers op de toetsen, niet in staat de klanken die door mijn hoofd dwarrelen te vangen. Melodiën mijmerend over dat mijn benen willen rennen, dat mijn hart wil pompen, mijn haren gewapperd willen worden door de wind, en de haartjes van mijn arm overeind willen staan door de schoonheid van een wereld in 3d.

Daar ben ik dan, living the dream… Wat zijn dromen eigenlijk? Vraag ik me af terwijl een bus me in vliegende vaart door dit inmense verwegland verplaatst. Zoiets als de nevels die je kunt zien in de koude ochtend lucht die nog zwaar is van de nacht. Strepen van verlangen die oplossen zodra de zon ze verlicht; verblindt door de realiteit van de dag.

Het lijkt hier precies op de dromen die thuis op de beeldbuis – toen ik die nog had – werden afgebeeld, verbaas ik me. Maar fietsend door vierkant verwegland mis ik de kronkelende knusheid van mijn thuis; mis ik te kunnen verdwalen. Al een maand probeer ik het, maar de geörganiseerdheid is niet te ontfietsen. Verdwaal me nou toch eens!

Het is een mooie dag. Even verderop zie ik een glanzende spiegeling boven de weg. Ik schakel op en zet aan in de richting van de glans in de verte.. //


25-11-2014 // Tears of joy, tears of pain. water drops that clean the soul, take the salt out of the wounds and slowly, slowly heal them – from sorrow, heaviness, darkness… Water of the heart, take out the darkness of the soul. Tear to me, show me your eyes in that most honest way, show me what you’re made of. I know you’re strong as well, but your weakness is so beautiful, fragile, soft, makes me want to touch you for a moment, hold you, just briefly, and gently pick you up like a feather and show you that your tears have made you lighter. And they’re lighting up a dark that we all have – you shine it through those mirrors of the soul. The mirrors reflect me. I see a bit of me in you when you look at me like this. But i’m not supposed to show it now. You can be weak if I appear strong now. That’s how it works – but you make me want to share with you, like you share with me – for a moment. Isn’t that what it’s all about? The sharing? But your sharing doesn’t feel like I should return it, not right now, you are about pouring now, pouring your heart out, and I am here to listen, listen to the rain fall… upon my roof, filling my well, becoming a sea of solitude in which you swim. You talk in code, words that I don’t understand, but it’s ok. There not being said for understanding, they’re being said for lifting the weight. The weight, on your shoulders, on that slender body that can be so strong if it wants to – and to gently open a heart that is so full of feeling it could burst – like a shell with a beautiful bright treasure inside – for a chosen few to find, but surrounded by a fragile mass that can’t be touched, and leaving a big space around it for something to fill – fill up the space between you and the present. Now – salty water is flowing through, reminding you. //