I have returned to this dumb “water mirroring” for a while. Being understimulated, I do need your clever comments, so just give in and complain to me… (I know you want to. I need it.) Complain about whatever you like. I want it.
Published in the collection called; AS ONE. Turn on caps. (I am fully aware that this is low-technology aesthetics. Too good for TV. As in everything.)
Have seen through life and little is left me unseen.
The Now, is since long seen, already hatched,
to its very last drop a home-birded and tired.
Time,
there presage moved gifted unexpected possibilities
in the false promises that are ripped apart inside by the miraged
while just running away from the latest cancelled occurrences…
But, still…
awoke to something unreachable and desirable in me,
as it would be a life without any words, rich with other than trash.
At long last given here entry to an Enlightened New Time;
an age where the new pen cease being so meaningless and mightless.
Wished deeds step onwards. None gets away.
Hear a last warning filled with severity.
All is altered.
HARSHLY TURNED INWARDS
Sleeplessly resting in a fragile hint,
so alike a water circle offers shallowness;
sighted shortly and withheld; so moving
Tracing then the water in the forest-creek down to the river.
Waiting here. Observing with a careful watchfulness.
Counting everything musingly and cultivating my freedom.
Honour is never anything other than right; wise and truthful,
unthinkable to therein search after any hidden motives.
Sleeping safely next to the hillside smith at summer-dawn.
Relief comes when Life again will be enough.
Letting fastidious be me reasonable and healthy.
Opportunities, the now’s possibilities avoided me steadily
and persistently bitterness bites memories sown,
cock-sure and clearly; in benefit for worthlessness
But, I have a prevalent advantage in clearest excess;
I am foresighted on the Holy Path Home to Valhalla.
Want to save this moment from escaping,
for it is irreplaceable ― irresistible ―
almost unsparingly fair ― undefiled
Calmed, by misplaced sun warmth
(the betraying), to take myself a freod filled moment
(Wholly and fully as a dumb animal who right away,
instantly forgets, when a little heat reaches to look in.)
Trees, continuing the raining, in a well-aimed loan
compounded with sighing, home to its certainty
Woods, slayed again on its leaves, on its flowers and straws,
molded to clouds and soils service in a secret
There was something well-known…
about all this helpless nuisance,
this here too barren established;
that Life become Death’s only joke
returning to soon be the lost
And while burdened steps cry away the dust of the road
the pouring rain fills an already overfilled water keg
1 SIGFRIDSSON 