Lyrotic moments

There was my fear to dampen your future with the chilling shades of dark memories to dim the shiny mirror of your soul with the sweat of my desire to steel the rainbow of the moment its brightness.

Therefore I stepped back my retina gulping down your image and, noiselessly dividing the sea, rowed back to my secret island There I can, should I so desire long for you endlessly

Do we still wait for each other… in the snow… in the sun of a cold day… or are we so much caught in ourselves, that even the silent and never ending rolling of the moon numbs our senses.

It was here you showed me what „waiting“ could mean and how close this waiting is to expecting.

I wait without expectation.

This is weightless yearning.

This is painless yearning.

It was not your flesh that enveloped my wintry body with summery heat.

It was not wild desire that drove me into your arms.

It was my longing for shelter and the childlike groaping for a new dimension within myself.

The years change our flesh, not our longing.

How shall we perpetuate our first delicious touch and save it from fading?

From the autumn of knowledge, the winter of habits?

By nourishing the flame of our childlike curiosity.

By pausing in the birth of the moment.

By arresting the race of our inner clock, this adamant metronome of our heart.

As long as we practice the art of pausing, eternity will take a rest in us again and again.

At the end of the rainbow there is a land where even on the hottest days of the year you´ll find some snow lying on the grass.

What pleasure to feel how it cools the hot skin, refreshes the sticky air.

At the end oft he rainbow you lie in your most naked skin‌

Could I have conquered you, that cool morning?

Was I too timid?

Or was I just afraid of tearing that ribbon, that invisible ribbon of trembling, quivering and childlike hoping‌

You called me your alphabet of love from Adonis to Zenaida.

I flattered you with the warm petals of the rose, conquered you with the daffodil´s pursed goblet.

In the cool brook of memories I know, that we never opened each other.

Before my eyes you went into the freezing cold water and swum into the evening.

I followed you unable to reach you.

So often we had swum concertedly, but never reached each other until today.

Take me, take me, when ever you want.

Take me in my most naked skin and warm up with me.

Consume me, satiate your hunger wit me and when I fed you I am fed as well.

Look at me and fill me up with the deep lake of your eyes until I brim over and fill you up with me.

I carry you everywhere...

I take you with me, where ever I go...

Everywhere you are close to me…

Forever you slumber inside me…

We meet every time…

You pour through my veins…

You warm up my skin…

You take hold of me.

How shall we perpetuate our first delicious touch and save it from fading?

From the autumn of knowledge, the winter of habits?

By nourishing the flame of our childlike curiosity.

By pausing in the birth of the moment.

By arresting the race of our inner clock, this adamant metronome of our heart.

As long as we practice the art of pausing, eternity will take a rest in us again and again.

Why do we destroy so much of what we love and what is loved by others?

How can we keep on living, as if nothing happened?

How can we obey if some human gives the order to destroy live?

I had forgotten you... somewhere and some when buried you in my live.

But nothing gets lost, as long as we live.

We cannot turn the time back, but we can walk in it, shape it and experience it again and again.

The snow covers our memories.

We stop understanding.

What does he cover, the snow, cold brother?

The soft spring… the smooth early shift… the gutsy midsummer… the lustrously autumn… the soaked October… the thinking of you…

In the warm shadow of the hidden ruin You showed me how plenty of colors the dark and endless many moments one second has.

Trees are like women.

They are self-willed powerful vulnerable live donating surprisingly warming cooling and they stay in your mind

As the heavy wine of the night wedded the flighty tears of the morning you opened with a tender gesture the Gordian knot which locked my heart.

The surprisingly tender touch of your worm fingers opened my lids and I looked into the most lucid, deep sea.

Than you invited me to drown in it.

In this manner I want to die a thousand times.

Between two moons we laid.

Between the large ocean of expectation and the jaunty fountain of rapture.

Between two valleys we laid.

Between the valley of oblivion and the valley of doubt.

Between two moons we laid.

Between the hot moon of desire and the fragile moon of the morning after.

Between the times we loved each other in the center of eternity.

Here, beloved in the hot navel of central Spain, I sit in the single cafĂŠ of the village thinking totally of you...

You beautiful female, you beautiful animal, you soft, wonderful being.

You ambrosially thorny bush full of surprises.

You July in December.

You warm, giving blood, endless tender savagery.

It was so long ago

When we dream, we are as young as once and happy about our being.

When we dream, no wish is refused.

When we dream, time is disabled.

Simply disabled.

When we dream, we are as young as once and happy

We were much too young, to enjoy all that, to old, nothing to desire yet‌ too beautiful, not too love each other‌ too gently, to forget each other.

In the morning, soft like clouds you lay, dew moistened, in my sweetest memory.

In my thoughts I snuggle you.

With my desire I awake you.

My memories flush the past, time is switched off and again and again I relieve you.

Lyrotic moments

Pictures and poetry by Hendrik Wiethase

And shall we see each other once again there will be this indescribable deep smile, that never fades, never sleeps, never dies. You gave it to me as a present and it keeps on living in me. It became a part of the mosaic of my live. “The landlady behind the bar carries the Mona Lisa smile like a weapon above her heavily apron.�