About Her

About Her

I stepped out into the dark and cold to search for the endless winds of the Sun,

The only ones I believe could bring you back,

The ones I have been dreaming and following for so long into my long lonely journeys.

They came in waves as if they had been following me too and asked me to step into the sea of my own thoughts,

Without fear of the past,

Into the most beautiful ones I have kept with me ever since you have held me in your arms,

On the shore of their timeless waters which you have colored with your words.

All was light, it was spring and the streets were sparkling under the waves and under my feet,

I was running up towards you,

Towards the white house whose walls knew our history,

It was raining with white flowers from above,

I heard your voice from all the skyes into which you set sail long ago,

You had returned.

We were on a tall bridge above the waters making paper butterflies,

I wasn’t scared and the waves did not grow dark,

I heard your voice,

All was clear blue like the skyies of your eyes from which you send me a story from time to time,

A story in a few words that

Helps me see clearly, helps me smile, helps me believe and find my way back from my lonely journeys,

I dived deep and carelessly into the seas and skies and streets,

There was no rush, just like you said:

“There is still time… There is still time”

And I knew that as I swam and flew above the world,

Always looking back into your eyes,

The eyes of kindness that have pireced my skin and made me the Queen of Time and Fairytales.

M.

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About the Calling

About the Calling

I woke up before the Sun and followed the calling of the waters,

I lingered and let my hands shake with the songs of the dolphins,

I dived deep into the waves for words,

I held my breath for hours and gathered them like pearls,

My precious obsessions.

When I came back to myself

I walked the shore line slowly, up into our mountains,

I approached the white house with its majestic white walls prolonging the cliffs born out of the ever black sands and

I saw you,

My lost poet, diving into your waves.

You,

Eternally young into your old age, as your hands, as the ancient walls enclosing you, as the shores of the Atlantis calling back its God Kings, as the love of our freedom fortress,

You,

My undiscovered poem,

Sitting in the middle of the smallest of rooms, where you sometimes make me lay naked and just look at all my lines saying your name only,

But you hear more and beyond that,

You,

My forever verse running through my blood without an end,

You,

Surrounded by your books, never touching, but burning everything with your quiet, calm, all knowing eyes,

Waiting,

You,

The healer of these cliffs and rocks and seagulls,

In front of the sea of words flying out through the window from under your fingers,

As mine flew from under mine,

You,

With the same hands that touched my hair and my lips, reaching for your pen,

The same that gave birth to me on your pages,

And you on mine,

You,

My unfinished story for which I keep on seeking, keep on searching for my truest of me, keep on coming back to every summer,

You,

Sitting in a serene storm above me, hearing my steps walking your song,

While I watched you in despair,

Then and now,

Knwoing that your story is there under your lashes just as you believe mine is,

I hear it crawling down on the sunburn walls towards me,

And mine climbing up, reaching towards you,

The unspoken lines come and come to life inside of me,

To take me to you and

Sit me in front of your hands so that you can see clearly

The story that, unlike me, you always find its end,

You always know and finish it,

Sometimes on your pages

Sometimes om my skin,

You know what word comes next,

Even after I scream your name,

You,

You always know and write its calling.

M.

About Our Journeys

I had dreamt about you in all my dreams taking me back to the shores of the black sand

Where you had your home and knew what that meant…

You took me

Through all the tall rooms whose heavy walls were filled with art

Dreams, wings, colors, words, skins,

Touches, galaxies, whispers, ideas, truths,

And when you asked me which one I would pick to spend my eternity in

I found myself picking yours under your all knowing eyes and young smile

Because we both fell inlove with the same blue contours,

The same forevers,

Same skies,

Stars,

Eternities,

It was only after my choice that you told me your real name and took me to the desert under the clear, never falling stars

One more of your many journeys to teach me about the only feeling that has ever defeated me,

Patience,

And all the steps you took to get to me, all the touches you patiently placed on my skin to get inside of me have always stood above all the words you spoke to get into what you treasured the most,

My mind,

And so with you, I have slowly learned,

And changed the way the worlds were spinning until the moment we’ve tied the galaxies together into the knot of the most beautiful story ever written,

And now I know too,

Home is everywhere under the Sun now,

And under your hands.

Always.

M.

About the Island of My Storyteller

About the Island of My Storyteller

My memories all live in the shape the smell of your skin takes.

Today you came to me with the smell of boiling, forgotten coffee on an island where the Sun never sat.

Your voice called my name over and over again in my dream and woke me up on the terrace where we slept together while the black cats watched us from the mountain behind our house.

We laid under your eternal Sun and dreamt of us in all the other thousand seasons on the other distant island up on the tower of us whose lights turned red and green once a year.

That was our home, and on its colorful terrace you asked me if I knew what the world looked like without ever having the Moon in its skies. I laughed in disbelief, as I always did,  before I became your worshiper and knew the religion of your hands on me,

On the island where the forever glowing lights caressed us when the day’s invisible stars sat and whispered on my naked shoulders that there is no night and no end of us,

That nothing real can ever be threatened or taken away.

 

M.

About the Afterlife

About the Afterlife

The morning life came back to words

And I let the snow from my lashes melt away the tears,

The old and forever young Sun embraced me in the peace of our never forgotten eternity,

And sang the song of Gods as time rushed back into meaning to heal my freezing wounds.

It was only after I had found my purpose and set myself free on the wings of my love,

That I became a true lover of the world, loving you even more than I did in the stories of our beforelife,

During the summers of freedom and poems on the waves.

Now that you became the haven from where my ship could always sail free and return to,

I can sing you again, the kind king of my life, with the same truth and despair that I had always needed

To dive and see clearly in the storms of my pages.

M.

About my Seas Again

About my Seas Again

As night hath stars, more rare than ships

In ocean faint, from pole to pole

So all the wonder of her lips 

Hints her innavigable soul. 

Such lights she gives as guide my barque; 

But I am swallowed in the swell 

Of her heart’s ocean, sagely dark, 

That holds my heaven and holds my hell. 

In her I live, a mote minute 

Dancing a moment in the sun: 

In her I die, a sterile shoot 

Of nightshade in oblivion. 

In her my elf dissolves, a grain 

Of salt cast careless in the sea; 

My passion purifies my pain 

To peace past personality. 


Aleister Crowley

About Celebration

About Celebration

When I lay on the edge of the bed that brings us together in all my dreams, stories and pages,

That seem to have happened galaxies ago but they only came together in the year in which I began writing about the completeness of having met you, of having lived you,

Looking into the waterfall of the mirror ceiling of all our soul searching shores,

Having known you in what was already the beginning of my selfish happiness,

Adding to that by knowing that I could only love you in your completeness, in your selfish happiness,

Far or near,

It is your existence that gives me strength by having found you, by having loved you,

With the love that was the only truth and truth never needs fighting for, never needs to be defended,

Far or near,

Truth is standing tall all alone, just as purpose, just as completeness,

All ours, unwavering and unattached.

Solitude rises above all the waters of the world, no longer scared, but in peace,

The peace that I know you’ll find in your searching,

And I will be here, looking through our mirror, writing about the year that brought all our wandering roads into completeness,

So that we could find what only the Gods have known,

Purpose beyond love and love beyond distances.

 

M.