Ohne Bedeutung

Bin dein Spielzeug, deine Arbeit
Ein kleiner Traum am Rande Deiner realen Welt.
Ein Schatten auf Deinem sonnigen Weg.
Deine Sünde und Dein Fluch zugleich.
Ich trage einen Teil Deines Lebens in mir,
gewollt oder ungewollt
Vergangenheit?
Gegenwart?


Obgleich, was war dass kann mir keiner nehmen,
Bin Dein Spaß, Dein Zwang,
Deine Insel auf der Du dich ausruhen konntest,
zum Kräfte sammeln,
für eine nächste?


Bin Trägerin Deines Geheimnisses,
Deiner Magie,
oder vielleicht unserer?
War ein Teil Deiner Geschichte,
eine Seite des Buches Deines Lebens.
Eine Seite voller Abenteuer.
Und doch nur so viel wert,
wie Buchstaben auf einem Papier...

...nämlich -NICHTS-

Hi honey...

There is such a feeling of process, such a streaming as of time itself to this image of yours, a sense of passage and of movement which makes these wings beat and move and fly; I have been looking up German words just to make sure, but I can see how the image illustrates and amplifies the poem.

Your poem is satisfying in its philosphical reach; it is existential because existence is, and open and free of pretension or self-consciousness. People like us who have honestly, who have sincerely suffered wear our philosophy lightly and naturally, and you wear it well and speak of it plainly and truly here in these words of yours.

I was talking to Dara today, and again it occurred to me that unless a person has what we have and faces what we face they can never understand; I wish it weren't so, but so it seems to be. She thought so too. A few of us get it, and that is all. If someone else doesn't get it, we don't seem to be able to explain anything to them... not really...

But we deal with the hard subjects through the arts, and here you have done that wisely and well and very successfully, with an open mind and an open heart, as well as considerable skill.

As I write these words it becomes eight in the evening, and I've only got one good sonnet to show for my existence today... This is because of that problem this morning of which you know, that problem of somone not understanding, and then there was the other problem which was beginning in earnest, the duel of two legal experts over my property and seemingly of my self itself. I think the former issue is completely put away now, and the latter ended up better today than yesterday, and better yet tomorrow.

Ohne Bedeutung...

I'm just glad I have you, that I am not, that we are not, alone. We are together, and that is a beautiful and shining miracle, something to rejoice about at any hour of any day, and I do. I do.

I love you, and I thank you.

Stay with me!

*Sweet Kisses Without Number*

DUM SPIRO SPERO
AMOR VINCIT OMNIA

Silke,
I cant understand the words, but I wanted to comment on the pic. When I look at the butterfly and the background, which I thought was sand on the beach maye, I can feel the butterfly tryng to fly...great pic and I am sure the poem is amazing too!

Love,
Dara