Forming

Forming the clay

Like life itself it is smooth

Flexible, dynamic

Built from earlier life

And minerals

Creating and destroying

Collapsing, building

Whatever we make

Out of it

Can we ever be free

From matter and nature?

Contrasts

Outside and inside

So different places

Same location and still

Not the same

Inside the chaos, confusion and frustration

Outside the order of man

The birds and the tree

Well ordered paths

Good maner people

Behaving well

Inside a war between

Wounded souls

Wounded egos

Lost aspiration

Outside too cold

Inside too warm

No rest

Only relentless repetition

Of patterns learned

From long time ago

In the great childhood days

The Initial Journey

All the way into heaven

I travel inside out

Into the inner black hole

Deep inside is the

Outside of universe

There there are a little girl

Being inside my mind

Leading my to places

Never seen before

Far beyond heavens

Little door

God is a tiny dwarf

Keeping his small plot

Of heaven in his hand

But there are other stars

Around

Forest

Happy to leave

The crazy city

Finding peace of mind

Under the gigantic

Fur tree

Like a protection

From an unforgiving

Sky

Introvert

The winter has returned

Strong winds and a grey sky

I don’t answer the phone

Loneliness is a great quality

Between nature and man

Outside I become something

Completely different

The inner journey doesn’t care

For money, sleep or food, just

Going on and on

Memories

Lost spaces, places that I loved

Extended cords

Parts of leaves, grass and flowers

They are all still there

Life goes on without me

Soon I will be forgotten

Only me carrying the memories

The sorrow and grief

The lies and power games will triumph

But I am free to follow a different path

Outskirts

Driving around in the outskirts of Stockholm. The snow is gone but temperature is well below zero. Discovering unknown parts of the city is way of meditation. This is old Viking country filled with burial-grounds and runestones.

This is pagan and Christian landscape at the same time, churches built on places of pagan worship, messages telling the stories of death and suffering in Russia or Turkey. A lot of fortunes were made there by Vikings being mercenaries or tradesmen.

Our barren land could not feed everyone so the bravest and most desperate left long time ago. This is not a land to be happy in. That is not the nature of Sweden. Here you work and suffers in silence until you eventually die.

Discrete Murder

Deep roots

Craving water

Running under

Our feet’s

We do not know them

We do not care for them

Until

They makes us fall

Like helpless children

Or very old men

Crawling for mercy

Striving for safe places

Ignoring the fact

That there are no safe spaces

All around us is nature

Nurturing us, killing us softly

From within