nicht im Sommer sterben
wenn alles hell ist
und die Erde für Spaten leicht.
Gottfried Benn, Was schlimm ist.
So much left unsaid That I still love you But saw no other way out No other way to keep the pain at bay To force the loss as a way to stand…
Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning. The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry, The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy Not…
And so I whirl around and around, in this breathtaking, vertignious merry-go-round, until the reaper asks me for the last dance.