Category Archives: Abstract

Granite

Granite

A dream within a dream, so vivid 'til the end, of endless walls of stone, of endless waterfalls, of falling out of space and time to come back down to earth to climb, of calls to action, never heard, of slowly crawling through the snow, of mirror-lakes that tear apart, of granite flakes that stretch so far, a heart is buried deep beneath where hazel hen meets wren, at last.

Entangled

Entangled

I guess I missed my 3rd blog anniversary earlier this year. I also missed my 200th blog post (it was this one six posts ago). And in general, I don’t like milestones all that much. They represent not only the beginning of something new, but also the end of a chapter. And this entails reflection, which I often struggle with. But today I will try to make an exception. Without contemplation, I will simply let another milestone happen.

In a Heartbeat

In a Heartbeat

77 760 000 heart beats of a robin, 39 340 000 fallen leaves on the island dam, 9 072 000 heart beats for me, 246 000 migratory birds at lake constance, 17 300 people for democracy, 2398 lines of code, 830 kilometers on the bike, 462 hours of work, 91 sunrises, 35 bouldering sessions, and three full moons.

While we experienced the longest summer last year, from autumn to early spring felt like a single heartbeat. Is this a glimpse of the future?

Motion

Motion

Wind whistles harshly from afar,
night settles gently, au revoir
dear Portugal, dear distant star,
each day filled up my memoir
with fragments of divided beams,
with rock-formations, quite bizarre,
with ocean waves and short-lived streams
of water flowing as in dreams,
a never ending love, it seems,
another round, the earth gets drowned,
and in the distant is unbound
a nightjar calling out his sound;
sweet memories still float around.

The Garden (Part 2)

The Garden (Part 2)

In most places the twenty-four hours of a day are divided into day and night. In midst a lake there seem to be three phases instead: Fog, sun, and night. And the difference between fog and sun is no less than between day and night. The fog transforms every part of nature: Birds extend their sleep and wait for the sun to arrive; plants are cautious and don’t open up; all the tiny cobwebs are suddenly visible – tiny strings beaded with water pearls. A wet and moist world which is calm and peaceful. Photographers love fog. I love fog.

Dry Grasses

Dry Grasses

A tempting shimmer,
often bright and sometimes dimmer,
tiny twinkles, shiny flickers,
mighty seas of jolly glimmer,
gently waving in the wind,
often aligned, yet intertwined,
thin blades on fire,
in shades refined,
ensnare the mind,
tether the eyes,
mankind inclined
to stay right here, 
witness the rustling, bustling weeds,
small beads pinned by the sun,
a moment passes, all is gone.