Flames in the Horizon

It is obvious from how the wind suddenly blows gently over the skin

or the way the sky seems to bear a subtle yearning;

Then the trees seem to be growing every second you look at them

and the river is suddenly flowing inside your head.

Steps echo differently, the solid ones you take, 

like an oath between your feet and the ground, never to be broken. 

The walls do not seem to be captivating anything anymore,

nor shall doors stand a chance against the grip of your mighty hands any longer.

You hear it, you hear them, you hear everything

clearly in your pounding heart...

Temptation

It should be sweet, even though to me, it tastes bitter like strong coffee and dark chocolate.

They say it should feel fair and delicate and to me it smells rough like old cheese on a slice of heavy black bread.

But nevertheless it must be inviting like a blooming white Marguerite with dashing white petals reaching towards the burning sun.

I has to feel right like swimming in crystal clear water of a peaceful lake on a midsummer day.

It should of course feel natural as well, like a piece of music taking over your mind, like the urge to dance taking over your body.

And it has to be – above all – fulfilling, satisfying, like the first sip of good, old, and brute wine.

Them Schwarzingers

It was not hard to see through the fact that I was a Schwarzinger.The more I looked into it, the more trivial it sounded. It felt as though the Schwarzingers had been waiting for me all along to finally have some sort of an incarnation, one living, breathing and out of flesh. With time, different aspects of a Schwarzinger-being revealed themselves on me and my first time in Dresden was like a great awakening. I could hear the jolly cries of all those Schwarzingers, hear the happy music in the background and all the loud noises of their celebration, when I walked out of Café Pot that first evening. I could see them jumping into eachother's arms and congratulating one another, when I finally found my way to the Prießnitz. So could I also hear the wine bottles popping open, when I celebrated Gary's birth there... There was only one thing left, one tiny detail which kept me away from turning fully Schwarzinger: the very "sacred" ritual, how they officially mated with someone for life. I could not understand it, I hated it, really loathed it, the mere thought of me nauseated me in disgust. I did not want to see into it, that anything in me might ever want to do that to another person, esp. to a loved one. And it was not without sadness that I thought of it because I knew deep within that I was a Schwarzinger and yet this one detail I did not want to accept. It was all, until that night the beautiful creature stood right in front of me. It was not the first time we looked directly into eachothers' wild eyes, not the first time I felt the world around me go blur and drag me into another realm, one which I had longed for all these years, one I had searched for everywhere on this earth, one I had kept believing in. It was not the first time I had seen the strength in those hands, which demonstrated the kind of determination and sovereignty not seen among mankind... or at least not often.But that night was the first time I smelled the scent so clearly, one which is not comparable to anything, anyone I have known so for. Like a delicate breeze, inviting, tempting, one like the taste of Marguerite petals, like the heat of red wine.   The moment it stroke me, it was the hardest to hold back and to hold on to my senses,  I felt it, I felt it taking a hold of my insides. Despite all the people around us I felt lightheaded, I felt my hands shivering with excitement, I experienced anew the feeling one undergoes, when suddenly something changes forever, something inside oneself. Yet this change is of an inevitable nature, since I knew afterwards, that which had become, had always been dwelling inside me, only undiscovered, unrevealed. So I wanted to grab those heavenly beautiful hands, to drag the creature behind me until none of those people who could never understand would watch anymore and then to do it. As scary as the urge was, I still did not really care about it back then. It felt right, it felt like an only choice. It was nothing to enjoy, neither for amusement, much more like a last resort to flee to. It was then I knew the desperation, the hope with which this sacred sin was committed. The longer I looked into those eyes, the deeper I sank into the desire, the need, the sadness of knowing what I might lose at every moment. As the background voices of others around us became clearer in my head, I could fully understand a Schwarzinger for the very first time... I was now a full fledged Schwarzinger, just as the stories talked about them.

Friends

Your quivering hand, but not because of the frost

I held your hand tight in mine, 
while you were quivering in pain

It was the silence, which hurt most

The silence which stole your cries from my ears,

The same which hid your tears from me

I thought of a thousand ointments I could have made

I tried my best to remember all the remedies 
I might have known

I did my very best, desperately, 
to maybe ease your suffering

Yet what could cure a pain so deep under 
skin, flesh and bone?

I held your hand, stepped stronger forwards, trying to be as solid as the mountains you cherished so

I wanted you to know, that I, too would be 
walking this path

Even if I can not make your pain go away

No more quivering in my hand, 
since our hands were torn apart

And still we walk this path, side by side

I have been whispering to all the trees along this road

And they to all the trees along every road

To hold your hand with a strength beyond mine

When you pass by

For I know you will make a stop by every tree on your way

the Catch

A whisper

Merely loud enough to reach your ears

Like an eager traveler on the wind

and still, despite all disguises

It can not hide the scent of the wish you once made upon a shooting star.