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  • NOBLE POETRY  

  • WOUNDS TO MY FACE

     

    My face, like a wandering, orphaned soul, faces my whole reality. My whole being is wounded and ready to flee, while in my soul an orphan boy looks into the night. Thus I wander, homeless, even to manhood. Between Light and Shadow, I willfully shred myself, as if with purpose dreading to enter some one's heart. 

    My whole being, like a love-drinking beast, would cling to the happy heaven-views with longing, - hiding behind them the shipwrecked pains of my broken schooldays. My soul's often-empty black chasm Would long at last to fill with meaningful, livable life, That my brooding Enkidu face, sinful with true pearls, May be caressed with kiss-blessings by the redeeming Angel-grace. 

    Man! Get thee within thyself at last, and be not helpless in thy heart! Behold the day of sacrifice: with its dying, happy rays Before it bleeds to death in the red of the Helios-egene - It bathes its fruits with honey-sweetness for the last time to the creating trees. Giving his rays to the light-thirsty! Well, take your time! Go on!", I encourage myself. I would try to turn to where I would receive redeeming love to cover me and envelop me. 

    I would bathe - if I could - in a flood of creative light, in sunbeams of laughing pearl-mosquitoes, which have manipulated and deceived me. For the umpteenth time my broken vulnerability is the subject of bargain, debate, ridicule - yet I will not give myself away! All the noises of Existence sleep in me, my dreams are one, and they bubble like the majority of colours in the snow-white tempera, like the creative consciousness of the creative dawns in my sleeping body!  

     

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