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The Moth Inside

The moth inside me yearns
towards the people in the crowd
with their invisible light –
the aura of their company invisible by sight –
although each contact only causes me to burn.

Yet still I find myself
dwell on their presence by me
though from a safe, slight distance –
their presence cast the only light in sight
and so I must return – if only once again to burn.

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The Seer – The Seen

She sits alone in darkness
around her there is light
and she hears happy voices
but they are out of sight –

There’s many degrees of darkness,
there’s many shades of shade,
there’s much to be absorbed by
in the absence of the light –

A life in an eternal night –

And she is right beside you
but hidden in the shade
that neither sees the other through –

I see – I see – I see you –
I see you thinking I don’t see,
I see you thinking I miss out
on life –
And yes!, All that I do is see
since that is all I am allowed
but I am not the one who’s
missing out –
I am the only one of us who sees –

“What do you see?”
“I’d rather keep you happy
by not letting it
shine through.”

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Light Requires Darkness

I carry with me a darkness
that prevents me from taking flight,
a burden of thoughts that possess
and bars me from the light.

I thought that I should name it
to understand and will it away
but names tend to bind things
and so might make it stay…

Instead I tell myself
and the whole dispassionate world
that light requires darkness
in order to ever unfold.

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There’s Mist In the Valleys Between the Hills

There’s mist in the valleys
between the hills
and the sunset
sets it on fire.

There’s foam on the waves
rolling ashore
and breaking over
the pier.

There’s hazy birdsong
drifting down
towards us on the breeze.

There’s less than an hour
to a city
if you cannot handle such peace.

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Standing There Alone

Standing there alone
who those people are
and what they think.
Milling around me,
but the words do not
make sense.
It’s endless humming
without meaning,
and it tires me out.

From a distance
every word
sounds like a buzz
and people lose
their eyes.
Everybody looks the same
and sounds the same
and move around the same way,
and I laugh
at their concept
of individuality.

I won’t purport to know them
based on having met
or talked with them before –
there is no point,
no purpose
and no plan.

It takes so long
to get to know somebody –
it takes so much work.
You have to see them
in so many situations,
assess their feelings
and thoughts –
and, let’s be honest:
None of you
care for that much work.

So I will not approach you,
just observe
and think.
And write, perhaps,
and maybe,
if the need should strike me,

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Those Humans

You know them, those pesky two-legged creatures who constantly bother you when you try to work and just won’t respect your privacy. When you plan a trip to finally be alone with yourself in nature, they might even suddenly decide to tag along.
It is as if they think themselves the most important thing in the world, and in your life. It is as if any proof to the contrary is invisible to them.

Continue reading Those Humans

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Dystopia anno 20**


It was a cold autumn day in-between late summer and the rainy season. The smell of rain was in the air, and the overcast sky already threatened with it, but it hadn’t started yet and could easily drag out for days. The buildings looked sharp in the grey light. A 3D animation printed onto the fabric of reality. Only the wind disturbed the image somewhat by ruffling the trees and sighing repeatedly. A few trees were yellow and red but most were still green and the orchard still showed the surreally red spots of forgotten, ripe apples there was nobody to pick.
And so the scene is set for the story.

Continue reading Dystopia anno 20**

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Hver lyd der udstødes
trækker energi med sig –
min mund udtaler
min dødsdom.

Til sidst suges følelserne
ud gennem porerne
så jeg sidder tilbage
tom, summende
af andres nærvær
indtil processen vender
og mine porer suger
deres fremmede essens
ind under huden
hvor den sætter sig
som uvelkomment

Tømt for kraft
sidder jeg blandt dem –
hvert ord smerter.

Men jeg er for tynget
af sediment
til at
kunne flytte mig.

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Hvidt støv suser over grå asfalt
snart dækket –
hvide fnug fyger,
skjuler horisonten –
jeg går uden at efterlade spor;
jeg kunne forsvinde,
lægge mig under en hvid dyne,
sove –
men verden ville finde mig
før eller siden –

Jeg går uden at efterlade mig spor –
sneen er min ven
der skjuler mig
og bider i mine kinder
for trods alt at minde
om min eksistens –

Når sneen ikke falder
fures den af spor –
det vil jeg ikke se –
ikke se hvordan mennesker
roder i naturen –
ikke deltage,
ikke vide,
ikke findes –
viske spor ud bag mig
ét for ét –

Når det så
bliver varmere –
det hvide tæppe efterlader
et hulmønster
på græsset,
der stille dumper ned
fra træer,
tagskæg –

Jeg er tilbage i livet,
den farlige sportid
er forbi –
nu kan jeg igen gå trygt
uden at se bag over skulderen –
nu kan man forsvinde
i menneske-fygningen –

men lyset –
men stilheden –