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The sky opened suddenly

and he tumbled to earth

Unable to open his wings

he crashed with great force

Dazed and fractured

he did not move for some time

Feather by feather his wings opened

and he rose slowly

The density of matter

overwhelmed his senses

and he sank to his knees

Lowering his head he prayed

for salvation

from himself

Art: Igor Mitoraj, Angelo Caduto (Fallen Angel)




No need to die

We are not alive

Dancing blind in the sun

Singing deaf in a celestial choir

We live to die

Die to live

On and on



ouroboros_en_to_pan_marcianus   It had no beginning. There was nothing as I groped. Did I grope? I just breathed. Breathed in for the first time. Again. That was the beginning. Already felt like something solid was there, something I needed to hold on to but still out of reach, Ariadne’s thread. I saw (envisioned) it stretching onward. I did not see the Minotaur but I felt his presence. And then it ended. Before I held it in my hand, no, in my mind, it was already finite. I saw the void. And the distance. But the distance did not matter. And what happened along the way would not matter either. Because ultimately, it would all end.

“Everything you do in life will be insignificant, but it’s very important that you do it.”  – Ghandi 


He closed his eyes and lay still. The room was dark and quiet, his breathing so shallow, he wondered if he was alive. Something was there with him in the expanse of silence. Without fear, he listened. Something was there, close by, within reach. He lay without moving, hands flat by his sides. The darkness continued, stretching endlessly beneath his eyelids, frozen pupils locked in an invisible stare. Something lay beside him, touching and not touching. His fingers twitched and then stopped. If he was breathing, he was not aware of it. He slowly lifted his hands and placed them on his chest. He could feel the slightest of movements, so insignificant as to be a figment of his thought. He tried to will himself to breathe. With a gasp, he stirred and opened his eyes. The darkness was impenetrable. He turned his head and looked. He saw nothing. He closed his eyes and lay still.



Art: John William Waterhouse: Sleep and his Half-brother Death

I saw god dancing among the leaves

one afternoon

led by two squirrels prancing in unison

like loyal pages to an autumnal Pan.

He twirled and swirled and the leaves fell like rain


one by one


not to disturb the dancing god.

There were tears in my eyes and a smile on my lips

as I watched him dance among the trees

in the golden clearing

by the old convent.

The trees stood guard

they circled the space like sentries

around a lit stage

on which he danced for me.

My steps were uneven

but I kept pace with the dancing god

behind the hedge.

Finally he rose among the trunks

the leaves stopped for a gasp

as he kept spinning higher and higher

and a delicate laughter came down to the ground

and I came to the end of the sidewalk.