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Evening Clouds

The feeling

Is clear and certain

If I die this evening

It is okey

The weather is warm

And the clouds are beautiful

I had my experience

Feeling so great a few moments

That is enough

I don’t need more

I don’t care for more

Maybe I am free

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Heraclitus

Realizing that change

Is inevitable

No return

Pain is the name

Of that game

Shame and fear

All the things are

Connected

Still isolated

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Outside the Dream

Waking up is always painful

A meaningless

Interruption of the dream

Life is a form of suffering

Given to us

Not by a merciful God

But a punishment

For something unknown

Maybe we just happened

To be clay, available

To an almighty creator

Indifferent to us

Most of the time

A past time for an

All powerful force

Already bored

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The Mighty City

Slowly the days passes

Into darkness

Sterile grey days in a northern

City of rational reasons

Limiting options and human sympathies

We live here as prisoners of Descartes

In the very city were he died

Every philosophy, every philosopher

Dies in this city at the end of the world

Only the frail memories remains

Forever frozen

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The Earth

This is a small planet

Slowly we connect to

Each other all over

The Globe

Fragile and small, almost

On the verge of being overheated

We live in this corner of universe

And whatever happen to us

We have to be mindful of our

Limited options

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Building My World

Trying to get a manual

For a good and functional

Life, Outside my small and

Secluded world

They are ruling through fear

Not terror but fear of losing

What you have and

Being part of the losing

Angry majority

Standing on the street screaming

For bread and entertainment

Still I have to build a new small world

That is working and thriving

Like the Stoics, long gone and

Still very present