Unnamed

It was all about the moon caressing your long curly hair;

the hesitation of the saltiest teardrop

before saying farewell to your eye,

explaining pretty well the trace it left behind.

Every rose bush saw the wind heading your way,

when the insanity of the summer heath took over the allies

and left a thick layer of dust on all the afternoon hours.

Was it the wind,

        was it the moon

   or maybe the desperate night sky?

Which was the first to notice?

A footstep was sure to be held guilty for treason,

a single innocent footstep

and somewhere along the way,

the sinful scent of rose petals teasing with the wind;

and if not that, then surly every blushing butterfly

flying by.

There was far too much to give you out.

So everyone stood there watching,

   shocked,

         amazed,

              astonished

      and definitely numb.

As the brutal rays of sunlight reflected from the blade

everyone knew there was no turning back.

What harsher punishment, than to stand in perfect silence

and be aware that watching is all one is going to accomplish...

Berries

There is always something with the taste of berries. They always have to taste so different from other fruits; tiny, mostly reddish, juicy, sour-sweet, sprinkling, joyous and always just not enough, right when you believe you finally got a hang of the taste they are done, over. They tend to make the impression of being something special, drops of another world left in our, something off limits. It does not really matter whether or not you are aware of their brazen wickedness, they win in the end since there is no way you can stand the temptation and keep away from them. And then, as if the mark of your sin, your weakness is about to stain you for all eternity, they persistently leave their traces on you: all over you. A couple of berries and already you would have a colored tongue, lips, cloths, teeth, fingers, maybe even cheeks and oh yes eyes! No matter how solid your efforts to hide the secret, the sparkles in your eyes will give you out: you have had berries and you have most probably licked your sticky fingers because there was no way you would have let go of the last residues of the magical taste.

Could not spare my Blog the whole Enska Madness

The first time I really had to do with metalheads was with my band back home. It was fine but then again everything is different there, there is the shadow following you every way you turn. The guys were also all studying in the same university as I did, a technical university of high reputation, so it was somehow out of question for them to be totally ignorant of everything else but music. Yet our ways parted after our show, since each of us did truly have a different path to follow and so I did not get to hang out with them for much longer.

It was here in Germany that I first got into the whole 'metal' society, although my metal friends right now are quite well spread over the world. They know very well I am not one of them, I praise the music or a good deal of it, I share the same believes with lots of them, mostly to a certain extent, I blend in quite well and yet I am never really a metalhead, of my own choice of course.

If there was one thing I sure learned fast, was the price to pay for being different, for not following the mass, for wanting to think for myself and for choosing something other than most people's choice. I also learned that I did not liked prepared packages, that I preferred packing my burden of life, the luggage for this 'longest journey of them all' on my own. I love shoving in anything that catches my eye, not caring if it goes well with the rest, it keeps my curiosity satisfied, I also learned that if I only like the pants from a suit, there is no need to tag the jacket along as well.

All this happens to be one reason I happen to get along with metal people so well... but it also exactly what what appears to be the problem: a prepared package.

I also had learned to care all my life, I had to care, there was so much going on around me that if I was supposed to crawl back to my corner simply nagging about how stupid people are and how shitty the world is, I would have turned out to be a person I would not have really wanted to either know nor befriend myself. Caring and engagement has always been there in my life. I grew up among people who cared and who were always trying out various possibilities to make a difference and I admired them for their efforts. Sometimes it is hard for me to face the fact that some people do not really care to engage themselves in anything but music, no matter what kind... I do not look down upon, but it hurts much, especially if they are people I tend to like. It hurts to know that some people could be so unsatisfied and yet care so little about this planet.

And every now and then days like these happen, days on which hell seems to be breaking loose in the land, where I grew up and where my dearest people are still living. These are days, on which I lose track of life, I cease to understand the world and words such as 'people' or 'humans' wake all different sorts of emotions inside my aching heart and pounding head. The worst is that I know it is not only happening on these days, I knew that what I get to hear on such days is merely a selection of tiny fragments of a continuous procedure. I know that executions are only a point in unjust detentions, I know that arrests are just a starting point of tortures, I know that riots are only one day from years of unjust and aggression of human rights...

On such days Enska happens and suddenly something starts to make sense again.

Ensiferum is not about politics, the guys try to stay clear from any direct political statement, which makes it so convenient and pleasant and yet...

I fail to point it out precisely but when one just looks at them, even if it is a random recorded video of a live show, the difference is still obviously there. It is on such days, when all becomes incoherent that Enska holds the world together, that Mahi, Sami and Pete are there to keep me company, to remind me of my world, of my dreams and of how much I worship life. I look at them and I see friends, I see people of an essence too familiar to me, I see real people. Part of the reason is well known to me and part of it just makes me wonder and makes me wonder even more with time and after each encounter.

It feels like each time I pick up my sword Sami is there to smile at me with a bright look in his eyes, each time I sharpen the blade Mahi is watching to inspect whether or not I am doing right and as I yield it, Peteluu seems to be nodding while laughing at Sami.

It is on days like this that friends make me feel not alone and Enska comes to make sense in the crazy human world.

Morning Dew

It keeps screaming in your head, it goes on and on until at some point you fail to see an end to it. As much as you do not want to believe it, as much as your heart yearns for something indicating that it should only be a lie, you still have to give in, you know it is true. You are not shocked anymore, it does not even surprise you and you know that this might even be the worst part...

“Don't let them become names! Please just do not freaking let them be solely names on a long never ending list!”, as it cries out loud in your head and it keeps screaming. All the loud screams, the cries, the hollering, the tears you do not manage to shed make you numb. Something really heavy spins in your skull and you start to feel it mashing your brains, as the load on your chest gets heavier.

Just don't let them become nothing but names!

Red was her Favorite

When was the last time that time was the one healing wounds?

I believed I would be fine,

assumed that years were gonna make it better,

make it at least easier

that the pain would become old and dusty.

I did not wish for comfort,

did not wish for peace neither did I wish to forget,

I just hoped to handle it better.

I thought I might as well grow up a little bit more,

see more of the world and more of what there is to life,

that I would have numerous experiences to carry with me,

happy and sad, good and bad, for it did not matter much;

it was all life, it was just supposed to be there,

the whole new life experience.

I did.

Life has thrown one surprise party for me,

I got to see and live more than expected,

I have been on my path for a while now,

I have seen many new smiles and held so many hands.

Time has taken the business of passing by seriously.

And yet...

Just when I believed to have finally worked it out,

when I thought I have gone far enough to be able to handle it,

it strikes me once again.

I gave in to sobs, which have never felt so suitable before.

I felt desperate, I felt useless, I felt pathetic;

facing the fact that I might never be able to handle it,

that I might just never in my life work it over,

the fact of having lost you.

I do not think it will ever be ok,

it will definitely never be fine.

When was the last time when time was supposed to be healing wounds?

And for once more, the irony of life slapping the fact to my face,

on the day you were given life to rather than the day you were strapped off of it...

Happy Birthday Ana!

Your Unicorns

You believed in unicorns. It was no effort seeing it glow in your eyes. 

You also believed in cotton candy providing you with magic powers, as seriously. If I go on thinking, I can remember a whole series of every little thing you believed in, like that should one day a indigo butterfly sit on your nose, it can turn you to one, too. I guess most people around you just got used to you. Some believed you were joking, some believed you were cute and childish like that and some believed you were nuts. I merely remember how I felt at first. It was weird, that one for sure but it was also unique, the sincerity of your voice and your eyes, that was what made the whole difference. You never tried hard o convince anyone, it was sufficient that you knew what you believed in, to you, they were truly facts. That was what I liked most. When there was a butterfly flying around at your first glance you said "I wonder if it is an indigo." the same way that most people lined up in front of a news stand would remark that the line is always longer on Thursdays, even you said both with the same ton in your voice. The same way you would doubt and question your beliefs, like anyone might take the time to doubt and question facts they had known. It did make great difference.

Somehow you picked it quite quickly that I confronted you differently. I even saw how you looked at me with appreciation a several times.

I heard you. I heard you every time you talked... and I thought. I thought about your words, about you, the passion and the honesty you left behind your words. I looked at you, when you were silent. I wanted to see if your eyes changed, if there maybe came another look and took the 'easy' you away. It did not and yet you did not look that easy when you were silent. You looked concerned, you looked distant and somehow mysterious. Sometimes it made me think that I knew not a thing about you, for I could not even nearly guess what you were thinking about. It all disappeared the moment you directly looked at someone or started talking... at first I thought that it disappeared, then I saw it again. It was there but dimmed or like in a shadow of the other presence. It felt like something inside you was constantly screaming or singing to keep you safe.

Safe from what?

I still hear you, no matter where or how far you are, even though I might never know where you are. And I still think about everything you said and you believed. I still wonder which could be true and which could only apply to you.

May 1st on my Streets

I know a place, where every chest bears an untold 1001 nights, in tears, in blood.

I know that place far too well, 

I know exactly how and where those stories are hiding

I know the silenced voice to tell each of them

I know the heavy load on each chest

I know a place, where people sleep at night at the sound of their loudest nightmares

I have known it for long

Starting right after my birth.