A Love Letter...
They met in a singularity of space-time,
where everything became possible
evoked by the fall of a shooting star
in the night sky of Nevada
months or years later.
They loved each other,
without having to learn how.
Their love was simply there
like God
merely forgotten, for a long time
— rediscovered by chance or an equation.
They celebrated their wedding
under the canopies of the Redwoods,
watered their love with the salty tears of the Pacific.
— A promise that raced through time,
beyond death
and into the time before the universe began.
There was no beginning and no end to their encounter,
only an ever-new NOW.
— I do not yet believe in this singularity,
but I hope.
I have scattered countless tokens*, breadcrumbs leading to me,
in the labyrinth of everyday life,
countless photographs,
poems,
have smiled at or comforted people
and caressed animals.
In vain?
There is no time.
But we experience the illusion of time.
And the illusion of
abyssal suffering
feels so terribly real...
How can I shed my fear,
trust in a world
a life,
that torments me so?
I have searched tirelessly,
but found nothing.
What remains is the hope
for this singularity
in the eternity of pain.
A Love Letter...
They met in a singularity of space-time,
where everything became possible
evoked by the fall of a shooting star
in the night sky of Nevada
months or years later.
They loved each other,
without having to learn how.
Their love was simply there
like God
merely forgotten, for a long time
— rediscovered by chance or an equation.
They celebrated their wedding
under the canopies of the Redwoods,
watered their love with the salty tears of the Pacific.
— A promise that raced through time,
beyond death
and into the time before the universe began.
There was no beginning and no end to their encounter,
only an ever-new NOW.
— I do not yet believe in this singularity,
but I hope.
I have scattered countless tokens*, breadcrumbs leading to me,
in the labyrinth of everyday life,
countless photographs,
poems,
have smiled at or comforted people
and caressed animals.
In vain?
There is no time.
But we experience the illusion of time.
And the illusion of
abyssal suffering
feels so terribly real...
How can I shed my fear,
trust in a world
a life,
that torments me so?
I have searched tirelessly,
but found nothing.
What remains is the hope
for this singularity
in the eternity of pain.
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