My Writings

The Young One

Artwork: Jonathan Grösel

Dedicated to: Robert Goforth

He killed all the sounds of the world and the entire noise, so that I can hear Him most clearly – Him and only Him. In this room, in this enclosed moment, I spent many hours, but I feel richer.

I remained completely still – for a long time, but I feel ever younger. My days poured into a narrow mould, into a shadow, a handful, and hid like a mouse – into a small existence. But I felt myself larger than life, larger than its splendor and vast expanses – and, even if you had waved your hands, asking – have I seen that great, cosmic work – I would remain silent and return to mine – significant in its own way.

I left my body, my rejuvenated being and an empty mind. I lay like this for what left like an eternity. In the far reaches of my senses – that part of me, which had pledged itself to the material world – I felt my skin exactly in place. It wasn’t stretched thin by vanity and it wasn’t loose, ugly. I was perfect, but that was only because He shaped me in his own image.

Alone I feed my soul, and body, but I feel closer to the Man – in his liveliest, youngest form. In this incarnation he is strong, playful and full of life, and I am here to find him in myself. This young, beautiful Me, this reborn, true human – that is Me.

My lungs I fill with smoke and yet they were never so gently alive and wet. They gathered air so that I can sing and although there isn’t anyone to sing to, I sing – out of love. Each and every one of us is born to sing, but some coughed out their words far too soon. And my voice seems to tremble more beautifully with each passing day.

And all of that I owe to Him, although I have never felt so free from the weight of debt.

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