diopoe19

a lowland without beginning or end
lit by the red sun,
the one who is shamed,
the one who is going to sink his shame
in the ocean.
The water is boiling there in the middle,
they can also see it from the other side.

And people make dreams
which stay dreams forever
and make criticism which stays in history
and from this side,
and from the other side.
The water of the ocean is watching
all these things and moistening them,
still hugging them
until when though?

And the night will come
and the ocean will not show large at all
but only here, in front of us
because the rest is inside us,
wild for creation.
It is difficult for you to see the other edge
the other edge is in your mind
and you knead it in the shape you desire.

The other edge!
Within the serenity of the night
you are floating in your mind
to the other edge
and you are always looking in front of you.

Shipwrecks are few,
and due to man�s mistakes,
wars, hate and ambition.
How many other shores exist
and how easily can
they all become one.

The huge ocean
can become like a small drop.
Which you can put inside your pocket
and pick out, holding him in your hands
whenever you want to dream of other land, other people,
other civilizations, and the change.

The ocean is everywhere.
On the tree, around us, in the flower,
in the shell, in the pebble, in our heart,
even in a grain of sand,
with the same power
hidden inside.

He is being vomited from our mind
like a torrent here in front of us
and we admire him
and many times he is calm
firm in front of our legs
placid like a lake
with his tranquil surface,
peaceful. (cont.)

Within the tempestuous sea you are sailing for the other end
and you stay throughout the night
as a shipwreck survivor                                 on this small island.

And maybe one night you will be lucky,
at seeing the light at the other end
from far away.
And you will imagine how it would be.
You will write poems for it,
you will paint it, invent lyrics for songs,
which you will dedicate to it.
And if one day they find you
they will call you shipwrecked.

You are looking in the darkness
and you are thinking.
One more step and I have almost arrived.
One more step and I can leave again.
Every night you come closer,
every morning you face the reality.
The dark blue ocean,
basically hydrogen two, oxygen, iodine    and salt, full of fish.
Simple as that,
and if we want later on,                             especially we, the poets �
we fill it with mystery �

So simple is our life.
It can hold heavy ships,
bears all the small boats
which are crossing it.