About Eternals

Her face looked as if she knew his worst suffering and it was hers and she wished to bear it like this, coldly, asking no words of mitigation.

“You’re wrong,” he said. They could always speak like this to each other, continuing a conversation they had not begun. His voice was gentle. “I don’t feel that.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“I want you to know. What you’re thinking is much worse than the truth. I don’t believe it matters to me – that they’re going to destroy it. Maybe it hurts so much that I don’t even know I’m hurt. But I don’t think so. If you want to carry it for my sake, don’t carry more than I do. I’m not capable of suffering completely. I never have. It goes only down to a certain point and then it stops. As long as there is that untouched point, it’s not really pain. You mustn’t look like that.”

“Where does it stop?”

“Where I can think of nothing and feel nothing except that I designed that temple. I built it. Nothing else can seem very important.”

“You shouldn’t have built it. You shouldn’t have delivered it to the sort of thing they’re doing.”

“That doesn’t matter. Not even that they’ll destroy it. Only that it had existed.”

 

AR

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About the End of the World

About the End of the World

At Sunrise, you kissed my hand and then we set sail…

Into our own second summer built with the patience that you have taught me during the nights when you smoked your cigarette in the dark and I watched you through the ashy smoke then let my saving pencil write the words you love so much.

Into my poems floating on the waters around us with your lips burning on my skin harder than the God of Sun.

Into the last lyric of our story which felt like the first of Aion’s unbounded, eternal time enclosing our universe.

Into the colorful lights of the terrace above the rooftops of stars and planets where space melted into tears of joy in my palms.

Into the lines traced by the big ships we saw through our glasses held tight together as you came close and kissed me on my forehead.

Into the eyes that watched me kiss your white collar while I whispered to you that my biggest fear was them, standing in front of us.

Into your words that brought comfort to that thought so I looked back at them and knew that we will never be old.

Into the silence of the breeze of the deserted bridge when you whispered on my neck what I have always known…

At Sunset, you took my hands into yours and then we flew…

Above the streets where the smallest of people were fading.

Above the purple lights of the widest windows where saxophones were bringing the night after midnight.

Above our tower of glass dissolving into the orange flowing lamps.

Above your words which drew my contour on the waves of the curtains caressing the horizon.

Above all the lights of the unseen world writing our skystory which you read to me in the darkness, smoking your cigarette, so that I could watch you again and see you as you are, with your first ever smile, the one I saw in my dream before you came to me all dressed in black.

At Dawn, the Sun and the Moon were one.

Our hands were numb.

Time stopped.

I was the Queen and you were the King. One skin, one breath, one word.

Music was lingering on our crowns. Phoenix rose above our bed and we felt its feathers on our naked backs.

The Nordic shores were succumbing under the warm waves. We loved each other with the end of the world on our fingertips and that will be the only memory of our new life.

We had been alive, out of time and space and now found our way back to peace from where life starts

All over again

Each morning

At Sunrise.

M.

 

 

About our Sea at Scheveningen

There’s metal gray and liquid blue, the birds are lost in howling winds,

The desert skies push on the edge of our world built on their wings.

But then we smile and become the masters of the waves

And silence them on our shores before our skins meet.

I know it looks like Vincent’s sea when we fall asleep

But when aware and wide awake it’s always summer deep.

M.