The ocean of the invisible

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Waves growing enormously
letting the buoy dance against its will
but look further ahead, because the moment of silence
is
where the storm refills

From the distance, or from the field of the eye
it could look like a big pool of emptiness, just crushing waves
where a life could easily die

underneath there is a whole world
one that seems so quiet and so calm
you would not even wonder

But that, is the eye of the storm.

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The morning rain

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The storm. The pouring rain.
November is passing, with it’s traces to remain –

Where leaves fall on the ground.
But there is nothing
that picks them up.

 

 

When the music stops

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Once, not even

that long ago –

there was music, that made sounds

now and then –

it was the worst song in the world –

now and then –

it was the most beautiful piece you have ever heard –

 

Once, not even

that long ago –

the music stopped

in a second, the tape became tapeless

the sound became silence

and there is nothing left

but emptiness

when you realize

those sounds will never appear again

in reality.

How can you be gone?

On my computer, I come across a picture. A picture from a party of a mutual friend of ours. A good friend of mine, a good friend of you. It’s where my evening stops, for a second.

On the picture we look happy. I remember that evening very well. It was the 30th birthday of our friend. First we spend time at her place. Parties are not for me, but that night I  made lots of exceptions. For our friend.  We knew each other vaguely before. That night, we talked, talked and talked, laughed, had fun. And we went out that night. Yeah, me too, the person who never goes out like that. I made an exception. For our friend, that I never saw so happy before that we all went to the city and a place to go out, with her. She was really really happy.

We had a great time. We talked more. We laughed. We took pictures. We drunk. (yeah, me too). From that day, I saw you more often and we spoke more often. I remember the evening in a December our other friend took us to the theatre as a surprise. How happy we were. I remember how we had fun that night. How we sat together in the theatre. How I drove you home that night, and we spend hours in the car talking on the parking lot. I remember how we wrote messages when I was abroad. I remember how strong you always were and how smart you were. You were one of a kind. With a rough life, I know. But you were such an example, so strong. It was incredible.

I remember when I came back from abroad, how we sat in your garden in the summer talking and how things were slowly getting better for you.

And then, the phonecall. *silence*.

This year, on the birthdayparty, you were not there. You should have been there, though.

Again, I look at the pictures. Now, those pictures, with some memories, are everything that’s left of you.

It’s so weird. Sometimes it really gets me. How can you be gone? How is it possible?

I look at your face. And the first thing that comes in my mind, is how your face looked liked in the morgue. How difficult that was. How can you be gone?

I see you smile on the picture.

And I know, I will never see you smile again.