Snow

Posted by yseult on Feb 23, 2005 in Personal

After another almost sleepless night without any better advice to offer to my beloved soulsister Marie than the evening before, I opened the window at 6 am and it was snowing. It was really snowing, slightly and curly, but it was the first snow to see here.
So I took a moment to stand at the open window, let myself get chilled down to the core of my very bones, of my own aching soul and longing heart, just watching the iced water spiral down to the warm earth… transform… become liquid again.
Some gray clouds were lingering there against the darker shade of the sky, and I was briefly wondering at the different shades nature can mirror.
And like a character out of my own stories my thoughts went out to the ones I had left behind during the course of my short life. The ones that had either not kept up with my pace or had simply not the force to keep me. To the ones I would certainly meet today, tomorrow or in some distant nearer future. To the ones that deeply affected me, had hurt or loved me and were possibly still loving me now.
And just as the tiny speckles of snow were ever falling down to earth, my thoughts were drawn by everyday weight downwards… lost between the deep pits of the backyards of the shiny houses of the ‘eternal city of light’, where a solitary soul just stood… watching the snow muffle the doubting voices of the mind.

Hard Times or how to relate to the things around you…

Posted by yseult on Feb 21, 2005 in Poetry

If only she knew how I can feel her pain… if only she could see into my eyes and follow the path of the strong confidence,
If only one of my many words was enough to give her the long awaited call,
If only I could take up her heart to find the clouds,
If only I was strong enough.

What does it all mean? Where does it end? And where will we finally wake up to our boldest dreams?
I wish I had the force to show her,
or tell her even.

Reaching out has never been as easy. And never been as futile.

Desolation and ever single shadow reaching out for me,
are a shroud that will at last claim my tired self…
… when all the words have been spoken and no solace was offered.
… when the shells of a single emotion, turned over and over again, finally is shattered by the glorious day.
… when I have at last found my last breath.

Already I cannot hear myself thinking anymore.
Already all ‘ultimate’ things have summed up to… nothingness.
Already my head lies weary.

Silence is my only companion.

“The soulless sigh of the weary…”
Hard Times by Eastmountainsouth

What…

Posted by yseult on Feb 21, 2005 in Poetry

… can you say to the broken-hearted?
What solace can you offer the striving soul?
What news from the undying land?
What war in the heavenly structure?
Where are the ripples you all once caused in my heart?
Gone?
Forever, yes.
What comfort lies in the whisper of the trees?
How far is my eternity?
Where are the old ones now?
Where did the holy thought just vanish off to?
Where is my love?
The one I cherished above all? Where?
Where is the Divine, when all I can see is the pain around me?
When did the perfect thought die?

And what do you tell the aching heart?
What the vengeful soul?

Where lies the truth, when the world goes to sleep?

Where did I leave myself, when I stepped out for a walk?

And why did God send me down here in the first place?
I have nothing to offer…

I just wish I could empty myself of all the words and thoughts…
write myself dry and finally stop the voices. And simply be at peace.

Random…

Posted by yseult on Feb 21, 2005 in Poetry

Where did my heart just vanish off to?

Where did my thoughts just go?

Was there a slight breeze running through my room just now?

My heart and thought have probably left me to stand at your side.
And could it be that yours came over here to visit and guard me?

If I could reach out a hand to touch your frowning, haunted brow…
I know, my own nagging doubts would finally cease to pressure me.

What becomes of the broken hearted…

Posted by yseult on Feb 21, 2005 in Personal

‘What becomes of the broken hearted?’ [by Joan Osborne, on the OST of 'Standing in the Shadows of Motown']

And what really does become of the broken hearted?

And – if we knew would we still be taking every chance at love?
Every chance at pure agony?
Would we still jump all boats and deliver us to the one person that in the blink of an eye suddenly emerges from the crowd of wellwishers?

‘Some kind of peace of mind?’
Where? And how? In Whom?

Where do the hurt and the pain goe, once the curtain of illusion has been lifted?
Where did you look when I teared down the walls to my heart,
when you left me standing naked in the rain of your infidderence?

‘All is lost and no place for beginning’
… dead leaves all around me.
Oh, Irony…