Yanni, If I Could Tell You ,Remastered ,3 Words

Initiation With Ants ,National Geographic

.....

fish,the other side of me

stages, rites of winter

i feel on stage so i will be, never afraid.
i feel in a stage, so i am.
we always are, this is what they say.
our teachers..in this they are right.
none else may be true.
true is only now what i experience,
feel and my consciousness re-forming
all along.
i will leave me at home,
shed this skin which is too tight,
i put it in the fire,
i want to walk free.
a ritual must make sense,
or it is not a ritual.
it must come out of what happens
and give meaning to start again.
a new day, a new year, another episode.
this , mine, is not the rites of spring,
it is the rites of winter.
under the frozen ground i cannot talk,
i cannot ask, i cannot listen, i cannot hope,
i cannot wait, i cannot escape.
i will just be there. hiding.
i am going into the stage of frozen
seed as long as it takes.
so, i go without this i.
but i live.
i don't look for anything, i don't look for peace,
i am only cléar and on my way.

knowing, noting:

so, yesterday evening a bus drove into a crowd,
a christmas market in Berlin.
humans killed, many injured.
i don't understand anyway.
i don't watch news.
i could have been there easily myself soon.
must i be grateful i wasn't?
i am not. weird.
i don't know what to do with it.
people want to feel safe...but nobody is.
to recognize this belongs to the art of living,
my people, my country have no certified right to be safe.
it could make us awake and see how unsafe other humans must
live from day to day. this is not being unkind to the persons involved and
their relatives, this is what i can do from here with it, nothing else.
to say i could will be hybris.
and when we wish to pray and can, we should  try not to pray for only these
suffering in Berlin but for all humanity and for keeping faith with us.
not faith in father god who will do justice, make all good or send another deluge,
but for faith keeping an insight in the good and a foreseeing for the good in mankind.
or we will just give up. i never give up, i may though walk away or fight
when i can see a sense in it.
peace is an illusion. xmas is. peace inside is built on an immense capability of detachment.
let this kind of inner peace not be a way of indolence and of indifference.

i woke

i woke in the grumbling
belly of the whale,
the deep of night,
without dream

in the sea, more
intimate than cities,
in the pale shimmer
of  moonlight
coming from the mouth

of my living
humming cage,
singing under water,
blowing through

the surface of
infinite movement.
my friend, the beast
in which i am born,

in which i will die,
i woke swaying and
warm and in the heart
of  a deep drone

coming from stars
through the skin
of all beings
and from within

i heard messages
sent and received
muffled by fog
like ship's horns,

working their way,
getting lost
in the ocean,
drifting apart

like humans do
across distance
on the cotton wool
of their pillows,

tapping on mobiles
in a room artefacted
by omission and
mute awareness

i wanted to go
back into sleep,
my trust in the
navigation of whales

i don't talk to
my whale, i don't ask,
there is no response
but being carried

through the waters
of night and of day
i sleep now,
i sleep now