Thursday, October 19, 2017
demons-an unknown word
The daimon in Greek was a mediator between Gods and humans,
a spiritual being.
Now thanks to Christianity we know demons as 'bad',
as messengers of hell.
Demons, Daimons, witches-always they have been ambivalent,
sitting on a fence between worlds, talking to us through the Thin Places
as the Irish call them, we cannot trust them and we should not ignore them.
They are inside beings closely knit and woven into our very essence,
their faces are masks, changing one into the other, parents, loves, friends, lovers,
enemies, teachers, anonymous, distorted and sweet and lovely and frightening.
They live in the playground and birth field of all our inner scenario, narrators of
terror, fear and courage, messengers indeed of hell and of love, altogether,
known and unknown, ever present with their mostly hidden games.
Some are difficult to notice, karmic, out of far past.
Many of them I know, i know where they come from, even their name i may know,
many are keeping in the shadow.
Sometimes I sit and watch them. They pass and i pass, they sit on stairs, on fences,
in trains. I let them go. It is not that i wish to keep them but I greet them so they know
I see them. I know they know who I am.
A few of the real bastards, few, they just walk through me as if i was not present.
They know exactly what they do.
This i find most disturbing, they are dangerous. I do not understand how they do it.
No, I am not deluded.
Sometimes, just sometimes i meet angels and fairies. I am not always grateful.
There is light but i have to pay for it, with pain, with suffering.And i know before.
Some touch me in purity, sometimes, and these lift my spirit.
Birds singing to me.
I am humble, they can fly, I cannot.
But i am crazy too: i try-and fall. Also this I know before.
I must let them be there. They will not go. They are all parts of this
what makes my person, my education, my thoughts, my feelings, my experiences,
they are my tell tale and part of me.
But I am not them.
I am not a thing nor a tale.
I am essence, part of all and all is part of me.
All breathes my molecules and i breathe all what has been and what is.
My person will die and it will live, a memory, a trace, mostly invisible.
When I die... and i die often..nothing will remain but love.
And love is not relative nor nothing, only we cannot eat it.
We can eat each other, astonishing. We do.
Good night, demons and daimon, angels and fairies.
I forget. I sleep in the sky, in the water, in the trees
and in arms i do not know.
a spiritual being.
Now thanks to Christianity we know demons as 'bad',
as messengers of hell.
Demons, Daimons, witches-always they have been ambivalent,
sitting on a fence between worlds, talking to us through the Thin Places
as the Irish call them, we cannot trust them and we should not ignore them.
They are inside beings closely knit and woven into our very essence,
their faces are masks, changing one into the other, parents, loves, friends, lovers,
enemies, teachers, anonymous, distorted and sweet and lovely and frightening.
They live in the playground and birth field of all our inner scenario, narrators of
terror, fear and courage, messengers indeed of hell and of love, altogether,
known and unknown, ever present with their mostly hidden games.
Some are difficult to notice, karmic, out of far past.
Many of them I know, i know where they come from, even their name i may know,
many are keeping in the shadow.
Sometimes I sit and watch them. They pass and i pass, they sit on stairs, on fences,
in trains. I let them go. It is not that i wish to keep them but I greet them so they know
I see them. I know they know who I am.
A few of the real bastards, few, they just walk through me as if i was not present.
They know exactly what they do.
This i find most disturbing, they are dangerous. I do not understand how they do it.
No, I am not deluded.
Sometimes, just sometimes i meet angels and fairies. I am not always grateful.
There is light but i have to pay for it, with pain, with suffering.And i know before.
Some touch me in purity, sometimes, and these lift my spirit.
Birds singing to me.
I am humble, they can fly, I cannot.
But i am crazy too: i try-and fall. Also this I know before.
I must let them be there. They will not go. They are all parts of this
what makes my person, my education, my thoughts, my feelings, my experiences,
they are my tell tale and part of me.
But I am not them.
I am not a thing nor a tale.
I am essence, part of all and all is part of me.
All breathes my molecules and i breathe all what has been and what is.
My person will die and it will live, a memory, a trace, mostly invisible.
When I die... and i die often..nothing will remain but love.
And love is not relative nor nothing, only we cannot eat it.
We can eat each other, astonishing. We do.
Good night, demons and daimon, angels and fairies.
I forget. I sleep in the sky, in the water, in the trees
and in arms i do not know.
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