My Writings

The Death of the World

Artwork: Jonathan Grösel

Translation: Georgi Krastev

I felt the World end, swept by the wind, in a narrow, narrow moment under an indifferent sky. I saw myself there too – forfeited, grown-up, but fallen – next to a man. The Compassionate, the Suffering, the Dry Hand – stretched to bestow blessing – the blessing drank its freedom therefrom.

Mindlessness dwells is in the nostrils – true and strong, woven into the earth by heavy hard hands. I find it in the dilated pupils around me and in the hollow words, having gone home into their quiet world, submerged in thoughts – far away from here, far away from me.

To be a human is to feel the locked door and its quiet stubborn nature. Its goal is to stop me – it’s almost enviable, almost romantically pure, but at the same time dumb. I have not been going anywhere for a very long time, the world pulls me only towards itself, it’s been a long time since I broke any keylocks. The sweet juice flowed out of my existence, a headache being the only thing that remained – from banging my forehead on the doors. Today I find myself on the floor, grasping this box, in which the brain makes its den.

The gold has waned from my hair, the crown left me with a black scar. Nowadays I only smell of soot, of singed black stone – rock next to rock – having kept the warmth of the family from the winter – cold only from outside. Nobody gets born in this cold, , nothing grows – the energy under the skin swirls endlessly in the same bodies and sticks of stagnation. Death is so far away…

The bones dangling from the branches will fall on the grass, the earth will swallow them and His wooden cross shall rot, His crown of hay shall melt into nothing. Nothing will remain of this devilish altar, because there will be no one left to pray. The world will wipe the dumbness off our eyes, will bang our heads together, will take our tears and spray us with them, will strip us all butt-naked and bury us. Now we will become one once again.

It will bow to the dead audience – the flutter of approval still in the air – and will show the path from now on to where.

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