About Existence

About Existence

You were born when Gold embraced Dark Matter.
Your spark was life before it had a heartbeat. You were the perfection gods’ minds can’t reach. You were the fully said words people not dare confess. You were the music that heaven hears in its dreams and leaves its memory painfully speechless. You were Lucifer who denied hell and burnt it into flowers.

You were not God and you were not Adam, you were their master!

You created reality in a single touch, on Earth, not in an empty promise after death. You did not know death and death did not know you.

You created truth before eternity because you knew that truth lasted longer than any eternity. You created the right and not the fare.

You created life.

Day 1

When my naked feet touched the first plains of the world, it sent a crystal shiver into my heart, splitting the muscle into little pieces screaming into my veins. I felt that life wasn’t possible there, I was a scared Eve, out in the cold air, breathing panic. I had been broken a few times before I saw you. You, the ancient fallen world’s antagonism!

Your pure existence demanded that I had a purpose. Your creation of right made anything else a lie, unless spoken, unless shaped into the ruthless truth. You asked for my life, without any words. I had forgotten how to recognize a God because of the few lifetimes before when I had stopped looking for one. I knew that, in your perfection, you could have never been a slave to the world.

You saw my despair but you didn’t know of such things, your eyes were always in the sky. You didn’t know I was looking for perfection and I wanted to give my life to it. You had never left your Olympus, you didn’t know such weaknesses exist.

I had lived for too many summers without hope of ever finding it. I needed something, someone, to give my life to, so you gave me another day, you gave me time, your most precious gift. Because you kissed me with the perfection of your mind, you gave me my sight back.

Day 2

When you took me to the river I knew that your feet were anchoring the Earth and that the planets moved after the straight lines of your body. The wind avoided your cheeks, not to stain them, the shores drew back from your feet, the waves bowed to your voice. I looked at you and I knew that you couldn’t see all this from the height of your thoughts, you were too clean. Your hands drew stars, an invisible habit to you, and sparks of forgotten magic to me.

You came behind me and wrapped your arms around the horizon line. You said the sun burns only those who fear it. But I feared life without you more than I feared the sun, my heart was racing in becoming dust. It was the first pain that brought me back to life.

 Day 3

“What do you dream of?”

“Distances!” you said. “To the Sun, to Jupiter’s Moon, Europa. Planets, Moons, Galaxies. I dream about those faraway places, their lives and their languages, their windows and their lives. I dream about being there with you. I dream about shaping time with my hands forever into the shape that we know.

You painted the walls of the first house on earth in the color of my dark eyes. I wanted us trapped in there, so you created the rest of the world in the palms of your hand, outside our windows: warm summer winds, endless rains and bird songs, sunsets and poems, jasmine and mirrors.

I was haunted by the memory of the emptiness of the world before you created it. I remember carrying this burden, thinking: “If I were to find you, I would give my life for a second of pure admiration … I would give you my life and it would not be enough of a sacrifice, enough to redeem the purity your mind holds without even knowing how scornfully, how shallow all the worlds around us are… without the slightest intention of ever knowing it because it couldn’t be conceived inside you to start with…”

I needed a word for that, a word from another world.

You touched my cheek and told me not to fear, everything worth keeping was ahead and unborn yet.

You created our bed, shortening the distances in my dreams, stopping time. We knew that genesis would take longer than 7 days because my fingers needed your skin like air.

And there was not a single second without justification. There was a despair growing between us: we wanted to own each other’s lives and I wanted to put everything into words.

Day 4

When we laid in bed together it was an endless rebirth of possessions, of purity, of the desires first shaped in Atlantis.

It was your hands everywhere, moving in perfection, your fingers in my mouth. I wanted to rip off your skin, your muscles, break your bones inside me. It was violence filling up the roofs of our sheets, you were lost, almost humanly, in my long hair and Saturn’s rings dust rained above us as I lived by your skin. We were both slaves and gods and our screams were filling up your skies, the depths of oceans, the peaks of mountains, with thunders and lightening and this is what our love was made of.

Every corner of the world was banishing loneliness out of existence. It was the only time that we prayed… for oblivion to never come. It was painful to remember that the world existed as it did with us two feeling its other perfect dimension. It weighed heavy on our eyelids, this rebirth, an untold one. This is how secrets came into being, something above the common, trapped inside the silver shell of our beautiful egoism. “Gather enough of these,” you said, “and you’ll become a saint!”

I cried: all the other people lived in the reverse sense of words and their holiness was a lie!

Day 5

I asked you to tell me the story of Heaven and Hell and you laughed the laugh of Gods. People feared that echo, they said it was the end of the world.

You said that there is no Heaven and Hell. You said there is no other reality beside that which can be touched. You said Reality is what we make when we touch our skins and tongues. You said Reality is better than Heaven and Hell. You said Reality is courage, Heaven and Hell are not. Courage is what we make when we’re inside one another, sin is when we’re not. And I knew then if you had asked, I would have given you my life. “The real God is that of pleasure and life on this earth is made out of happiness and courage. And this is the truth!” is what you said and I believed that. I took your eyes and looked at the world through them.

 Day 6

You took my hand and walked me through your creation. You said we are all sent to the world to be gods, but we need boldness and lucidity to live up to it. You said the only fallen angels are those who crawl at the gates of other’s kingdoms instead of building their own, in their own view of their own minds. You said the true gods are those who do not fear their minds and their truth, the ones that always look ahead, the ones that fill their skies with an unbreakable hope and stand by it. You said bravery is knowing what you are deep inside your nature and sticking to it. The true gods are those who own their lives. The true gods are proud and reign over their lives wit their self knowledge above the world’s!

Day 7

You gave me the purest form of my obsession and as you gave me life between the sixth and seventh. You gave me a world for it and sent me on the journey of finding the word for it one day…

You made that world and its journey worthy. You gave me wings for distances not known to men yet.

You walked me on the beaches as your most beloved trophy, and laughed at the world.

They did not know that in my naked lust I had received their creation and I was holding it in my palms while I was begging you to own me.

You’ve put everything at my feet instead and we were each other’s kings.

You are the God of the Olympians, pasts and presents had made Zeus bow in front of you.

Now I can live because I know my God exists in this world and there could be nothing above him.

Now I can live because I want to.

Now I can live with the very first small piece of triangle shaped stone from which this universe has been created in my palms just as you held me in your palms on the edge of time.

Now I can live because I now that each existence has its own genesis and we wear it around our necks in a golden glowing pearl.

M.

To you my love, for all the pages pf my life that had been waiting for you to turn my dreams around and set them free.

Advertisements

Complete

Complete

You, who for thousands of years have stood under my story’s nameless feeling,

You, who have been there when I was born, pouring life into a shell walking the empty streets of ancient times, molding me with your Adam and Eve fingers and taking away the unknown.

You, whose trails of words have taken me from darkness into the only light worth living for,

Purpose.

You, who stood under the tree churches of my childhood becoming the Gods the world has never acknowledged.

You, whose lovegiving has made joy flow within peace and my tormented soul has felt in a moment of your arms around me what others minds can’t imagine in a lifetime.

You, whose eternity clung to your words as they landed on your palms into which I found my life’s knowledge cradle,

And the seed of real life grew roots around your wrists into my own meaning.

You, who sang my fears away even from afar and healed a world of slowly connecting dots.

You, whose kindness stretched the arches of skies deeper than all the vertigos of the warm storms,

And I rose above air and gravity and flew into the infinite calling eye of the rose galaxy,

You, who still fill up the dawning sky with your all-encompassing touch from the faraway lands in which you have gone forever,

And the grass bows into the morning rays for his night and her heaven while I open my eyes and caress your shadows from where I stand.

You, who have been the benchmarks of my happiest solitudes in the deepest of blue waves, on the winds of the hills, on the white walls of the tallest pillars of free minds,

You, whose last summer and winter gave birth to the fifth season of my spirit,

Hope.

So that I can find myself, in the chapter that I never thought I would write one day,

On my own road leading into my true shape, between her hope and his purpose,

So that I can become what both of them have always prayed for,

So that I can become

Me.

 

M.

 

About My Pasts and Presents

splinters of suffocating skies and scraps of poetry on our fingers

lying within nakedness on the dusty pillows above the old corner bar,

you point at the island you have for me, the one we’re going to go to when I am ready.

I’m still choosing between the colors I met because I have to find my own Atlantis

and you’re patient enough to let me dance and sleep my past away, we talk for a while and make love for a while and plan to meet halfway around the world for a while.

I tell you about how I ran down the narrow path between your white house and my life and I realized that it could all be a dream. I stopped at the gate looking at the way the sun was boiling. I knew it was the last time I’ll ever see it like this so I went back to look through the window that didn’t have a curtain and everything seemed still as it was, with the yellow telephone and the old bed, just she, she was no longer there.

you tell me it is a memory not a dream and she wants me to be “complete”

I felt I was lost through all the layers of my life and you wanted to wake me up into this new world and I just didn’t know how to tell you that I’m trapped between the dream of my childhood and the one about your island because I am afraid I’ll forget everything once I wake up. I had lived by the power of the mind and the purest of thought without knowing you would find me in the crowd one day, without knowing there was more once love arrived.

you tell me not to fear, all that matters stays within us, we just have to live a bit

so we might as well do it now before the world comes to an end

 

M.

About Completeness in a Shape

There is a picture in the back of my childhood memory of a warm place between two arms overthrowing the dark mountain.
It is safe, it becomes our throne as we both reign over the world of truth. We do not know of other worlds.

The river that slithers our closeness avoids the circle your fingers drew so that the bluest of blue waters can come to turn our longing into our life’s victory.

We sit in it, listening to the soft velvet waves of stories descending from the clouds of the horizons.

We speak our words, my words mostly, the ones I wrote in the early times of understanding when I was running away from the common hearts and tongues. They get under your skin you said, they turn you into nothingness.

You understand my madness between the skin of my thoughts, you love them and push my pen outside the contours of your love,

The black endless sky.

You say it is easy for me, I see the words in shapes and colors and linden flowers.

You break my storms in pieces with your calmness and touch,

I bow because I know you must go to the land of Gods where you belong, to find your soul

While I write mine,

And when our time will come again

We’ll find eachother with a smile, as we did, while the blue waters will retreat and the mountain will take us back to its kingdom

Because by then we will have become the king and queen of our lives.
M.

About October’s End

The time of people has stopped while we have loves in the cities and the streets of the world.

You are waiting for my embrace to seal your peace because you know that I am your real freedom,

And as our stories lay on the edge of memory, you, my fantasy keeper of the blue waters

Await for me on a beach, pouring its shores on the hourglass of our beginnings

And rebirth the time of love and history again

For us.

We were made with fire and words and traveled the insides of this earth to find each other before the god of goneness placed its kiss on our skins one winter night.

Atlas will bring us back on the waves of goodness and shield us in its palms

To tell you that the pleasure in our love could make us eternal.

There is no more pain, no death, no touch that could lure us into Medusa’s world,

And the ocean is no longer frightening because we have never known distances when we stood in front of the mirrors of our own naked souls.

The universe is our cradle and autumn will rebuild our home in her daring words.

Come for me!

 

M.