Poem of the night

Like fire they were burning
As I closed my eyes
No to keep them dry
But to hold on to those tears
For in them was all of what I used to be

My hopes
My dreams
My losses
My fears
My triumphs
My failures

All of what I'd given
All of what I'd gained
All of what I'd suffered
All of what I'd claimed

Letting them go
I could not do
As it felt too early
To be separated
From --

From my history
From my past
From all of those grains of sand
that traced the path

Of all of my steps as well as those of them before.

We all knew we were something more
That those traces were only reflecting
Mere shadows of what used to be

By letting go of all of what we thought to be
By opening up for new worlds to see
By untying the grip of what made us before
By understanding that letting go would give us more

I opened my eyes
- Not to see
But to let go of the tears burning
From the memories of all that used to be me.

As the tear watered my cheek I was free.

A state of perfection

Forget about every single line of text I've posted before.

WHY?

Because never before have I entered such a state of perfection, such a state I am in right now. I can feel life flow through me with a force of the universe. I feel all experiences of mankind inside my heart. Right now.

It might sound ridiculous, but what pushed me into this state of extremely profound well-being, of extremely intense LIFE is the book I mentioned some posts ago, Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer.

Again, you say? Didn't we discuss that already? Yes. We did. But I was not ready for this at that time. What pushed me over that fine line was an experience that - believe me or not - is created as pure marketing. And as it still holds its grip around my heart, as the pressure of the hand squeezes my heart into a space not big enough for its force, I am left overwhelmed.

So what happened?

I received the movie by the same name as the book yesterday. I didn't watch it. I was too tired, so I decided to postpone it.

And this morning I entered the world of Jonathan Safran Foer's imagination. It is a beautiful, beautiful world, I'm telling you. And it hit me like I'd ran into a brick wall. And it left me - well, as I said - in a state of perfection.

I wanted to read about what other people had said about the book Everything is illuminated - the book that is on the top of my list right now.

I stumbled over a website. It is called "Who is Augustine", following the quest of the book.

The website gives a total experience of the magic of the book. It has captured it all. (I am sorry. I feel this one will become my second Neruda. Something I will never be able to let go.)

In the section "Visit the Ukraine" you'll find the pieces that in my eyes were hit by the strongest beam of magic.
You will find The Chorus of The Dial Waltz Song for Soon-to-Be-Married Men. You will find the Kolker and Brod making love through the hole in the wall separating them from each other. With the beautiful

"The three lovers pressed against one another, but never fully touched."

I will hate returning back to normal life after this. The website was made, for not so surprisingly the customer Jonathan Safran Foer, by era//404.

I need to dig deeper in this. I will need to make Foer's The Project Museum my next quest. And hopefully, it will suck me even deeper into this state of perfection.

Paris in the morning

I have a friend that cheers me up if I'm low and who keeps my beat going on a good day. I call him Last, but he goes by the full name Last.fm.

The thing is, Last always shows me his latest findings. He will take an artist I like and give me a lot of new stuff that I never knew about, mixed with some of my favourites of the day.

It's almost funny, because I never meet up with Last without a pen and some paper.

Just now he showed me Joe Purdy. He played me a song from Purdy's Paris in the morning album. And as I'm planning a week in Paris right now, it surely caught my attention.

So off I went, to discover this Joe Purdy some more. I like his Can't get it right today. I also like the rhythm of Waiting on something good from the Paris album. I will have to look into him some more. Purdy has an excellent player on his website, so just go on and have a listen. My analysis so far is that Purdy is a man of lazy mornings. When the coffee is on its way and one is, without any hurry in the world, smoking the first cigarette of the day while looking out on all those people that seem to have been awake for hours, rushing around. (I am no smoker but I guess I should be.)

Different. Well, I'm getting back to Last now.

Sudden rush

A sudden rush of melancholy
Like rain coming from nowhere
It showered me
Leaving me cold.
I guess I brought it upon me
I guess it was my fault
For returning in my mind to times--
Dwelling.
[2. To exist in a given place or state] Yes. ...
Lingering.
[1. To be slow in leaving, especially out of reluctance; tarry. See Synonyms at stay1. Yes, definitely.
2. To remain feebly alive for some time before dying. That's how it feels.
3. To persist: an aftertaste that lingers. Yes, it won't let me go.
4. To proceed slowly; saunter. Because I feel I have to. (And I'm wearing heavy boots) [see below *]
5. To be tardy in acting; procrastinate.] Because I cannot hinder myself. ...
All of this
After a day of sun
After having the warmth tickle my skin
And I felt like twitching involuntary like from the anticipated touch of a lover.

My God. How can I let in the sun again? When it will feel like the touch of your lips? How can I open my eyes again and see the sky, without feeling the ubiquitous sensation of loss?

Yes. I felt life rushing through me as the wind touched my skin. For a moment I - again - found myself lingering in the feeling of your stroke.

Someone is smoking a cigarette. I wouldn't mind having one myself. To smoke all of this off.

* I desperately wish I had my tambourine with me now, because even after everything I'm still wearing heavy boots, and sometimes it helps to play a good beat. (From Extremely loud and incredibly close by Jonathan Safran Foer)

I love Jonathan. I love his way of writing, of escaping. Read Extremely loud [...] and continue with Everything is illuminated. A masterpiece. I guess I should see it on film as well, the trailer paints a beautiful landscape in ones heart, don't you think.

My heart is not broken

My heart is not broken, even though judging from my posts lately, one could imagine it is. I just love the wave of emotions a broken heart sets off. Wouldn't life be a drag, if we'd never experience emotions bigger than life itself?

Today I've been accompanied by John Mayer and his Continuum album. One of my favourites, Dreaming with a broken heart, has given the day a blue tune, one I enjoyed.

When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part
You roll outta bed and down on your knees
And for the moment you can hardly breathe
Wondering was she really here?
Is she standing in my room?
No she's not, 'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone....

I counted the loves in these words

I promised not to cry.
I promised.
I couldn't make you love me.
And I--
I tried hard to be brave, but I failed.
I had a billion emotions within me.
I laid them all before you.
One by one.
As my love.
Letter by letter.
A sensation of lightness that gave me.
But it was hard--
Knowing, that the closest to perfection would've been
Knowing that I made you feel the same way.
As I did.
Loving you.
Loving me.
I counted the loves in these words.
There were plenty.
And yet--
The tears I decided not to cry.
They were all at my feet.
A river that was.
I saw it run.
Down the street.
It mixed with the rain.
And forever--
The proof of my love.
Was gone.

Magical moments

You can catch a glimpse of one
if being lucky enough
to raise your glance at the right moment.

They appear somewhere in the betweens
of dusk and dawn.
They are a part of winter and spring, summer and fall.

Magical moments
Drawn in the skies
Spreading a magical feeling
that in a split second will pass you by.

Last night I caught one
How lucky I was
to raise my glance at the right moment
Not to have it pass me by.

It coloured the summer night sky
But that was not all
It opened up to another dimension
Amazed I watched
the opening of the door.

As the red sky coloured the world beneath
I knew what showed, wasn't all
The red shimmer could be seen by anybody awake
While I alone knew about the secret door.

It was a magical moment
For some maybe
just an ordinary summer night sky.