Poem on a powerful platonic soul connection of two friends - two runaways to wisdom.. |
We, the Gamblers of Life By the hot springs of creativity. Inside the womb of life. In the salons where the air is thickened by deep secrets and where sin and innocense, the inseparable, rest side by side. That's where we meet, you and I, and throw the dice... And the stone walls of the old cave echo with memories of the past and lives shared. -- And thus we are swung from time to eternity, to a no man's land and the kingdom of unbound ideas. From the dark mirrored ball rooms, the shady prisons of senses, the idle comforts of illusion, the two of us rise towards the pale wide horizon where man is free and left to his own devices. The smokey fumes vanish behind, the last bonds are broken, and all is possible. We are two runaways - faithful servants to wisdom. Old, but not aged. And with our thoughts we caress each other - triumphantly breaking sonic barriers - letting our birds fly and play and entwine, holding our breath with each passing touch. Until at last we surrender - humbly, in worship and silence, before the great universe: there we stand, in reverence, as one naked organism, seeing in clarity and sharing all. Thus there are no two, there is only one. And so, in our soul, we are alike: We are vagrants of the universe, beggars of the spirit and fugitives of desire (the desire to return home). Strangers to this world. Poor today, rich tomorrow. And how dangerously do we live! Always on the edge, standing on a thin wire; time after time sacrificing our world view, all pieces dear and familiar to us to the hungry jaws of the illusion burning fire - which in its severeness is the most merciful of all. In it lies our safety. In it lies our religion and sacrament. - And god is never far. (created Feb 4 2004) |