The flowers of autumn days, A.S. Pushkin

The flowers of autumn days
Are sweeter than the firsts of plains.
For they awaken an impression,
That’s strong, although it may be sad,
Just as the pain of separation
Is stronger than the sweet of date.

I've lived to see my longings die, A.S.Pushkin

I've lived to see my longings die:-
My dreams and I have grown apart;
Now only sorrow haunts my eye,
The wages of a bitter heart.
Beneath the storms of hostile fate,
My flowery wreath has faded fast;
I live alone and sadly wait
To see when death will come at last.
Just so, when the winds in winter moan
And snow descends in frigid flakes,
Upon a naked branch, alone,
The final leaf of summer shakes!

Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin



(stolen..)

note:
who wants to stay alone will be alone.

and sometimes there is no answer.

where i bleed, i cannot stay friend
but must keep away.

friends live their own life, they do not concentrate for each
day and for each night all their awareness on the other one,
do not give all their energy as lovers do.

friends are happy to see us, happy to be with us,
give, receive, care and be cared for, happy to share and happy to go.

love wants eternity. but it is not in our hands.


sometimes there is no choice, i do not know the right way,
but i just have to walk.

gate

though energy cannot be lost, all structures , all mediums will be destroyed,
by fire, water, salt, rust, wind and weeds, animals, humans, all suffer death.
all moves, changes appearance, dissolves, crystallizes, mutates, rots, not one stone will remain on the other. life builds, grows, forms, and death changes each face, each tree and each grass. all tears rise into rain and flow into the sea. all is happening without one word. our eternity stares at us out of ruins, it is constant metamorphosis
and that is all we can perceive. each corn of dust is rebirth. nothing will ever be the same again, it is to me consoling to see this. me who wishes to walk into another evening can never be the me who i am now. it is a chance, a grace , a blessing and a curse. but so it is. ‚it‘ is just a name for the ineffable. and death will be an unavoidable release, in its own time. it is an ultimate love, to melt into forgetting self.
this is what the gate told me.

presence

after some time

we fill a past

and then

feel each moment

gliding in another moment

tick tock

it is only the clock

not our time

but after some time

it reminds us of death

we flow in the present

with past and future

and after some time

time does not exist

we are time

we ride waves

walk cycles

tread water

stand still

we err

come my bird

don‘t freeze in fear

you are not a captive

but take shelter

for this moment

flow in tenderness

into your future,

your sky and your end,

sleep and fly,

unfold wings and grace

after some time

nothing else to do.

presence is past,

now, and future

just now or now...