Remember this flash of a moment when you thought it matters?…The time when you felt something, something grand, so fragile and subtle, so empowering yet frightening?… Yes, it doesn’t mean a thing, it means nothing at all, nothing at all…
I remember walking away from the funeral of love
On my scarred tippy toes
It all happened in a state of
deep belated insomnia – or narcolepsy perhaps, this part
I cannot recall.
There is no formula
But I believe that
Phantasmagoric flickers of lights
Are the only reality we can grasp until
favilla et cinere pulvis in terram aligns itself to
The finality of dreams.
I’m so scared of misjudging
Of rushing too quick: towards you, perhaps towards
The wrong direction.
Neither of us know ourselves,
We are little la la, happy-go-lucky children lost in the forest of magick.
One caprice after another,
One bitter joke after another…
Now you also know that
I’m scared of new beginnings and even more terrified by old endings.
Right after being struck with your ethereal affection,
I turn into a frantic escapee.
Just rejoice the phantasmagoric flickers of lights,
Bathe yourself in the glory of their grandiose illusion.
I will put on my Black Madonna heels,
March towards eternal forgiveness,
And take you there