love, silence, language, Babylon

when as i see true all

language is translation

(in Babylon)

then love will be translated

too when it reaches another

or me, a translation not in words,

not even poems, but in embrace

and kisses, soul and skin

touching together with faith in good

and in recognition of essence.

in the nakedness of language and in the nakedness of soul and in the nakedness of skin we are nothing and all,

parts of one and not parts.
still, we are translation ourself and must walk through the land of confusion.

this is the beauty of love, to see and feel essence and giving self nakedly in all ways with a music which has been there all along, but we had remained in the shadow before, it is joy rising like a bird and self taking a bath in the sea of life.

this is ..grace.

and this is to be true: not to say all but to do what is necessary and what flows out of the core of sharing good and bad.

or maybe one way to see, all written.

not in context but in flow,

in a river of which i know no name

but one i will not say.