on entering silence, diary notes

silence doesn't mean not to share or not to communicate.
it means to enter a place such as an old church next to a shopping center
where you can get rid of all noise including your own and sit
for a moment, still.

it is not the end of life and it is not the end of poetry,
rather it is the space in which poetry can arise,
in which essence can be and enter and transform consciousness
with pure awareness

so, i am not writing poems these days.
for the time being: i listen.

and even only yesterday or the day before, not important,
this kind of time, i wanted to write something
quite intimate to my friend whom i love, important to me.
i entered silence, and after i thought:
no, this i do not wish to share in words
walking around between us
but in being together, whispering it only
with my breath or telling with tears and laughter,
in another language.

so, maybe i will write again, maybe i will paint again,
but i do not have an obligation to do this
nor do i feel any real obsession.

just maybe a still far mood to write a novel
on...not without any ideas: but i wait for my horse and my cat
as well as for life and love to show me more of it.
and maybe..i won't write it at all.
there is no reason to do it, only i could want to do it.
then.

for a writer i could say nobody can live from essence
alone, otherwise there would be only poems and no stories.
as a human i can say i cannot only drink wodka,
i need food and touch and companionship.
and what i could say as a man, i'll keep for myself.

i am surprised with myself, i feel calm
and i can be,
on the other side i recognize clearly that i am an inter-dependent
being with this me...the man i see in a mirror, the one i think i know so well,
the one i know i don't know at all, the person i am rebuilding day for day,
regrouping and re-forming the many inside:
i can leave him for longer periods.
and sometimes smile, though it is not easy..