Naive-consciousness

I know it well: the hypocritical crowd of people with Janus' mouths and money laughs, but you will understand everything, if I confess to you my difficulties, which I have to describe, as an honest and cowardly person. If you could see that literature has become a great affair of my heart, and the creative consciousness that greedily foams my days in it, you would understand and stroke me again with your swan-hands.

If you could see how much forced diligence I often protect and protect the marbles of my stubborn face from the searching eyes lurking at the end points of my exhaustion, they would already flow into abundant streams, and if, because of you, conscious helplessness would threaten my secure livelihood - I would go with you perhaps forever!

For believe me, there is a spiritual pain that my childish vulnerability, my naive, gullible misfortune cannot endure. And even now the muffled voice of many rings in my ears: "You were a coward and a traitor, and could not claim your rights beyond death!" - The loud, petty preaching of the blue man is often blown into my ears by the hyena wind!

Thou canst feel it, and it is useless for thee to lie to thyself: I should have needed thee - thou wouldst live and breathe in my heart even now like a holy heartbeat that signifies the universe! Like a drowning man in a straw to save him, or a shipwrecked man cursed with the curse of homelessness on a sandy isle of harbour, I would cling to you, my darling! For thou hast known long since, my weak heart bleeds with broken, self-sown stigmata, - the honest word of faith never denied, if thou hadst accepted me as thy companion on this earth, Thou couldst have changed my hopeless abyss with conviction!