silence
sometimes a lot of silence is needed
for me to wake up between shadow and soul
even in this century the lantern flickers
and I'm finally still
the moon and the river accompany our walk
everything is left to its own
even this century walks
and again we return to the place
where we are and are not
for me it's enough that I'm close
it resembles the space of two souls
nearby is the sea which is not a wall
and the night shows horizon beyond the sight
the seagulls wave at us and I surrender into voice
the wild horizon and vastness
incomprehensible and uninhabited light
frightening love and the mountains
maintain the height
everything here
is turned inwards
people leave their houses every day
and they return
this century
and the silence within us
for me to wake up between shadow and soul
even in this century the lantern flickers
and I'm finally still
everything is left to its own
and again we return to the place
where we are and are not
for me it's enough that I'm close
and the night shows horizon beyond the sight
the seagulls wave at us and I surrender into voice
incomprehensible and uninhabited light
frightening love and the mountains
maintain the height
everything here
is turned inwards
and they return
this century
and the silence within us
I inhabit the silence
let the sun rise out of the day
I water the flowers
the droplets should fall
to drive the flower's juice
and the voice of growth sticks to life
the airplane is inside the window frame
it draws a white line above the rooftops
and the big bird keeps to the invisible course
so I know where I am to go
a mile uncompleted I drink out of it
and the daylight weighs my breathing
I splash against my voice
and break into two waves
everything is yearning home
something vanishes from the horizon
and becomes visible elsewhere
but the sky continues
they picked up their bodies in the morning and left
they closed a dandelion clock and its wind into travel bags
in the morning nobody looked for the grass
the slopes were bare the soil was carried away
a girl opened a picture book a farmer made a furrow
I ran across the field
until one day a blade of grass accidentally grew
and suddenly all meadows have long been there
