RECOVER LIFE’S HEART

Guarding the hours altering; their changes: My prey.

Fogcovered ― AWAKENED!, rising ― Dawning now lifts itself
swiftly roused, opened in the lightsoaked halls in the forest

and all night is missing ― for a moment, ― again.

(Worries bite ― a burden lingers on.)

Wandering up all the Path’s aged, burnt in, yearsteps,

standing upon flowering field islands,
leaving by my withering footprints

and catching torn thoughts ― when spoken my heart clears, ― to remain.

Life’s heart, our hearts; are born matured.

So return, come you who listened, know the qualm cleanhearted;
on hate’s and gladness terms here allowed to tenderly intertwine
with the lighthearted ― maybe sorrowfilled, enlightened Sun’s routes

I am proven ― when your shivers go cold, ― if you wake up.RECOVER LIFE_S HEART

FORDABLE PLACE

Blowing down powdersnow from a pine branch
onto cold, light grey shadows; in the wilderness

(The verge of the ground a reminder of Our gathering.)

Gently gave Water and Wind Life to the cloud
meanwhile snow journeyed in a concern to remain
upon forest hills stones; to be glanced towards the edge

(Finding Now in the stillness,
in a fleeing movement:
All gone and awaiting time.)

Somewhat hesitant break runnels through the ice,
somewhat insolent, asking: When do We reach Home?

This so grievously lovable clarity’s Winterglade
is surely leaving its Answers in the abstruse
alike streamcaressed stones over the creeks have stayed

in the frozen years

Demand our new freedom, as all other time is stricken.FORDABLE PLACE

AS WORN OUT SHADOWPLAY

Listening.

Remembering aged forestshine
Rainstrewn patterns
Wet leaves caressing the ground

Treading northnight.

Walking paths, learning the craft of wordless validity,
through the moon’s vividly painted forest-shadows
over this sweet silence and wilted leaf soil

Remaining. Now in a dawn without words.

Standing beside the edge of the woods as a secret,
as tired, failed and forgotten glimmered lumber
where sorrows always are in a temporary frozen

Remaining anyway. Stuck.

I am forlorn-embraced,
all too roughly ripped from this tearing uncertainty
unbeknownst my frail wild-strawberry time returned
and placed itself furthest away from un-necessity

Freedom?

Lingered on here under these lovingly sailing clouds
while these charming wild-strawberry in the green
stood helplessly faired in appeal after forgetfulness

NAUD

Cure: Life and Death.

SHADOWPLAY 5

MORE THAN LOVE

 

Seldom do futile words about love take on a living,

but leave in defiance its new ruins everywhere.

 

Listen in here carefully now, sneerlife;

Wrong in the head gives wrong in the eyes.

Right in nothing own rights to nothing.

Shut thereafter kindly your slow snout.

 

Advice on advice writes a starving harvest

wording a wisdom stolen from nonsense

wherein tiresome words are endowed pity

so like raisins showing the full grape vine

 

We know all too well that been and had are us a wretch to harvest

so keep all your filthy, wry-legged and weakmoulded words

where all regretted ”love” always takes its way home to be hated

 

Hear the laughter at your comparing of mutual infantilities to be sane

and find you thereafter that the will to your wrongs are missing here,

furthermore that more than love is not a mystery; The name remains.

 

Rip from its hold

that cleanest emotions have here too hard been used up,

that the fairest scum creeps in line before foulest!

 

Rip from its hold that suffering and death stand all near!

 

Take to its hold

that Honour will outshine petty survival,

that only Truth does own us in real Beauty!

MORE THAN LOVE

MORE THAN LOVE

DÄR DAGGEN ALDRIG TORKAR

Det var innan tystnaden ändrades ―

just när dagsranden kom gående över trakten
medan molnskuggorna svepte fram ― iakttagande.

Och världen låg ― i dumheten; de oräkneliga såren
där oskäligt skräp sökte efter att vara intagande…

(Själv? Vandrade fri där daggen aldrig torkar
och Livets alla stigar visade fram till Oden.)

Vi mindes vagt trygghet och ärligt ägda överflöd,
äkta liv i sköna äran ― längtan hem till Asgård;
att rotfast Odla värde endast Godheten Oss bjöd.

(Lyder mina steg. Lämnar barmarken öppnande spår
innan den första snön snart återkommer som ett hot.)

Skickligt, säkerligen alltför väl, svarar Sanningen:

“Slit ner skenbara trösten ― den är falheten: döden.

Vi har fiender att rättas; botdräpas, i blickfånget,
ty intet står mer fagerväxt än dödade livslögner.

Låt skingra mardrömsåren. Ge Sanning till hat och bot.

VAR EN ÄRAD! MAKT OCH GLÄDJE! SÄTT DIN LIVSROT!”

DÄR DAGGEN ALDRIG TORKAR

SOLGRENAR

Är hårt ristad i gömd vrå fram till Ragnarök.

Hämtar en till oälskbar sträcka att älska:

Grenarna väntade här, alltför blickstilla
innan, som rönt är; Vi kan sällas till mullen
likt kärleks döende äring: Infångade,
medan sjörök stiger inom björklövsregnen

Löv nere i slasket dämpar hårda stegen.

Saknaden; rot till krona, tär denna värld svårt.

Men, vissnad blom minns att den segrat mot mörkret!

VI ÄR HÄR! KAN EJ NOG ÄLSKA ELLER ÄLSKAS!

Välkomna, till vårt rikliga lägers enhet
där Solen skänker oss sin väna ödmjukhet
ur skogskyssta skyar fria från ovisshet
inne i dagbräckning och skymning, kära Ljus!

VÄRDEFULLT LIV FINNER DEN HÖGSTA FRAMTIDEN,
SÅ SKYNDA ― STÄRK NYA DAGARNA PÅ STIGEN!

RÄTTEN TILL KLARHET ÄR VÄRLDARNAS LÖSTA SVAR:

GUDARNA ÄR KVAR!

grenar