Deksel

Is er een deksel op de leegte van afwezigheid,
voor verloren verlangen, verwant aan teleurstelling en wanhoop,
als illusie wordt gecorrigeerd door de werkelijkheid?

Tussen elf en twaalf.

Gevangen in het laatste uur van de dag,
wacht ik op mijn straf, mijn bezoek,
de stemmen van jaren geleden.

Geesten van de dames en heren,
die, wellicht ongewild en onbewust,
mijn nachtrust zullen bezweren.

En alleen na hun gezang en geklaag,
over stommiteiten verjaard en begaan,
Laat ik los, en vlucht in dove slaap.

Lesson learned.

Conversing with another person, another human being, is the most complex of actions. A trick I will never quite master, my only hope is to accomplish it without inflicting too much embarrassment. Yet, on those occasions it does work out well, it is a magnificent experience, inducing a euphoric state not less than any other drug I've tried. To peek, through the prism of language, into the soul of another person, is worth the building of trust that usually precedes it. And reflected to you your own humanity, laid bare in its most fragile form. Naked and vulnerable, without veiled secrets.

And then, you find out that nothing comes without a price.

The sea is crawling up the beach,
eating, feeding on nuances and doubts,
until what remains is but water and clouds.

Clear and poised with purpose,
Centered around a conviction,
Creates thought with precision.

Even if more considerate hesitation,
would provide more than a small insight,
It wouldn't stop this rising tide.

Pride.

Perhaps, a virtue that preserves dignity,
makes one stand up, against perceived injustice,
fuels the internal fire that spurs us on,
without much hope or chance of success.

Perhaps, a vice that favours irrationality,
raises arms in the defense of but a flag,
preaches violence over passive pragmatism,
without room for reasonable consideration.

Please, answer us.

In an ocean of apparent emptiness,
creatures reach to the heavens,
calling out, virtually screaming,
their cries crossing solar systems,
their souls digitally streaming.

"Are there not minds like our own,
or do we face this vast darkness alone?
are we but one in a bare crown?"

And as we listen, strain our ears, and turn to the sky,
robbed of company, and left with this unanswered cry,
it may turn out, our sisters are too far and too few,
and we are destined to wander and wonder alone and free.

Sun

For that restless star, the sun, that shines on me,
For giving me the opportunity, however briefly, to be,
From my heart to your burning and soulless inner core,
You have my gratitude until time ticks for me no more.