Sometimes

Sometimes I feel like Cinderella, I want to be saved. By whom or what I don’t know. Maybe by a man, by a friend, by a stranger, by God, by myself. By the next thought or feeling or happening or view. By sleep, by death. Maybe all of that, or rather none of it. It seems the best salvation is that which is not needed. Or which is happening, all the time. Well, I know it’s like that. I just forget sometimes.

Don’t forget

The world can be so beautiful.
The flowers know that.
Oh, let me be a
flower girl.
⚘ ⚘ ⚘

♪

Enough?

So if you can do it, or help someone else
A little bit, to stay alive, or happy
Then that’s enough
So why are we made to question
The value of our lives

(Rebecca Elson, A Responsibility to Awe)
 

Maybe my specialty is not to be very special
maybe my expression is not to express much
maybe my creation is not to be creative?

Maybe my talent is to just be there
to look around, wonder and enjoy?
Not the worst thing, actually.

I’m not sure
but sometimes the best answer
is when the question dissolves.

Humans

Eight billion individuals, undividables
autists if you will. 

Everyone in their own world
literally being their own universe. 

Yet connected, in varying ways and degrees
dancing with each other, loving, fighting 
(mis-)understanding, (not) caring, ...
and basically all one
the one life expressing
as all of us and everything.

Paradox and beautiful
beyond measure
beyond beyond
poor words ...

🌚

 

 
„Nachtstadt. Alle eilen nach der Arbeit nach Hause. Blinklichter von Ampeln, Scheinwerfer von Autos. Niemand bemerkt dich. Weil du in einer anderen Dimension bist. Du bist gleichzeitig hier und nicht hier. Du bist außerhalb der Zeit, außerhalb des Raums.“
(Kommentar von Roll1and)

Wo ist mein Platz in dieser Welt? Brauche ich einen? Will ich einen? Gibt es einen? Was ist diese Welt? Was soll sie sein, für mich?

🌞

Vorfrühling ⚘

Härte schwand. Auf einmal legt sich Schonung
an der Wiesen aufgedecktes Grau.
Kleine Wasser ändern die Betonung.
Zärtlichkeiten, ungenau,

greifen nach der Erde aus dem Raum.
Wege gehen weit ins Land und zeigens.
Unvermutet siehst du seines Steigens
Ausdruck in dem leeren Baum.

(Rainer Maria Rilke, 1924)