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October 07 Reflections in café
In this country, whose language I do not speak, I feel protected. The mind is protected, ironically and precisely by its very ignorance, by the sensation of not-knowing. There is nowhere to go, no one to meet, not a soul to get to know. I am completely and utterly by myself. No future, no history, no coming and no going, just here, here, here, this, this, this. I find liberation and relief in this complete foreignness and total alienation. In this tiny café next to an unknown street, there, I have access to the open secret of being, just being. I. Memory of going by She goes by, they go by, umbrella in hand. Gloomy façade of ancient time, black smog sedimented on the buttresses and pillars, layers and layers, lamenting the impermanence. She went by, they went by, coffee in hand, books in hand, hand in hand. Silent rain in noisy city, dusts dissolve into mud, mud slimes the soles of unknown souls; soul that sees everything but itself. She went by, he went by, all went by. Have you never heard, that immortality has no price-tags? She goes by, I went by... II. Toothache Genie of the swamp, swamp of trickery spirits, infested the armoured mind. Needles of anxiety drills trough the thin membrane of thoughts. Trickling pain sweeps like ripples over the clear pond of cognizance, scratching the foundation of illusory being. Waiting impatiently, the mind hopes for a tsunami, in that for a moment it can forget itself in waves of transcending emptiness. 29/09/09 Kraków TrackbacksThe trackback URL for this entry is: http://jumpingrat.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!51AD1B6383860EA2!1307.trak Weblogs that reference this entry
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