i am like a salad,
sprouting out of the soil,
green and growing
i need water
i need care
or i will be
tasteless, wasted
and in the end,
like illusion,
not even salad.
i am like an illusion
but i am not an illusion.
i am like salad,
but i am not salad.
i am like a dog
but not as innocent,
i need affection
i need care
or i will not
even be a dog
i am a man
and i am like
the illusion of a man,
but even Buddha said
all is like an illusion.
he didn't say
all is an illusion.
so i am not.
i want you,
not an illusion,
you are
like an illusion.
but you are not
an illusion.
rivers living
will flow
and meet
with other rivers
and reach
the sea,
maybe together.
they have direction,
innate intention,
they melt into the sea
and still they flow.
i am not alive
in the sea of nothingness
though everything
comes out of it.
imagination
and desire
and courage
are the force of creation,
pysical and in the mind.
illusion is but a word.
it tastes of bad memories,
it is about seeing
with different eyes than yesterday.
this is all what it means.
all what is now illusion
was real before anyway.
all experience
can be seen as illusion,
we are travellers,
and we are passing
and passing through
and passing by.
it is a truth,
being travellers,
but it is not an aim,
and passing-by is not an aim.
it happens.
ps:....this is personal¬ a poem....
it is about trying to see a future for a relationship
in which love can develop.
kindness and love are not more illusion
than hate , violence, mistrust and indifference.
this view would remind me of the child who burns its finger
and then realizes: hot. no, pain, bad. bad memories remain much
more easily than good impressions. a common problem.
ethymology: ludere (Latin) = to play
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