The impact of your golden boots on the cobble stone is heavy,
getting more decisive with every step of the path, forward.
Your deep-red silk cloak sways in the wind
and covers your shoulders and back;
you are on the way, and it is good.

Imagine a king who sets one foot in front of the other, not yet
a hundred percent convinced
that he is going to like his job, this work.
A king who, nevertheless, takes it, because it is his place
and because it is time.
Imagine a king walking with heavy step so as to be heard;
a king whose first command is one pronounced with utter clarity - because it is necessary.
Imagine a king emerging,
leaving all insecurities behind - because it is time.

Imagine this king, secretly pressing - under his red cloak -
his right hand on a spot a bit above his pounding heart,
bracing himself.
For all this is new.

Imagine a king who is human, and knows it.

During the Long Night
a snowflake got caught
in your dark hair
shimmering in silver light

During the Long Night
You always knew
how to conserve a spark
how to share its light

You shake of the little
That still clings
To your Form, with loving
Assertion

We can do this now

Shake of your old roles
And in this way allow freedom to become
Non-possesive

Night exhales
Her cold breath in your face
Telling you stories of fear

A nightingale shouts
Her little heart out
For your soul to hear
Where to reach

A rush through the air
Your head tilted back
By a violent grab of your hair

A little bird's flutter
Two lips that stutter
A motionless prayer

A story of Night
That likes to play make-believe

A young pounding heart
That learns within brief
It was played from the start

This tale
Just a dream
Of tonight

Who are you when you are
stripped of your
relationships
appearance habits
sports and hobbies
tricks
hits and
unpredictable blinks of the eye
dye your hair
it won't last

who are you
still
if every fast move you make
only ends
in vast
nothingness

who are you
when
everything comes to
a standstill
when every
single
story
you have told yourself and they have told
you comes to be unraveled and
dissolves

who are you
still
when everything you have known for
decades and longer
every pattern
every language
every person
every past and future tale and
fairytale
becomes
a fairytale at last and

who are you when
the vast
high waves
crush over your head and soak
you fully
through the bones
and

who are you

when the waters have
calmed down and
you perceive

the space

A kid leaves home and walks
Through fields of borrowed dreams
It crosses streams of sorrow
roads of hope and joy
Of talks about tomorrow
Hits its way right through brick and grass
And leaves
And feels before it sees
Warm hands beneath the shoulder blades,
Then understands:
You NEVER walk alone.

From that point on
Each step
is leading home.

A girl in the streets, *****, untidy hair a scary look on the face plays
a violin facing
all the while
the man who hates it

One by one he
cuts
her strings but she
keeps playing without a single
alteration on her face

Not even after the
very
last
string has - with a final thud - been cut in half
does she stir

And only when -

It's only then that he does realise
grows pale and with wide eyes feels something sting:
the sound never came from the instrument.

He exhales
gives in
surrenders to the
vibrant sound surrounding
his every cell and hair and thought
bathes
in what ought to be
for so long

The slightest
twitch

your palm seeking
my chest

still working on
building down
the filters that have your hand stop
in mid-air

"You taught me the courage of stars
before you left
How light carries on endlessly,
even after death
With shortness of breath
You explained the infinite
And how rare and beautiful it is
to even exist"

🎼✨

A girl with soft hair cut
herself in three parts once;
One to break forth
and live
through every wild adventure,
one to pretend
to hold her back
to never lack the challenge,
and then the third to have
this story
written down and merge them
back together
like feathers falling from the sky
before your feet
and have you read this,
Dear,
and have you
read this

You look at Yourself, at what you are, how soft you feel, how gentle - and you think - can that be can that really be here -  and you start growing around Yourself grow around until every inch of this gentleness is now
protected until
every cell and non-cell knows
You are supposed to be exactly this way and right here where you are
until you intertwine
with what you protect
know it inside out and
embody it without
hiding without thinking without
fear
Just
Being what you always were

How does the light work
Says the bird to the other
And does it hurt to get
Caught in its radiance