MY ONLY PLANET

Somehow I got to a desert island Far from my life, far from any hopes or dreams I was left there with no history and nothing I could think of as a future I sat on the beach for days watching the endless blue ocean and above it the endless blue sky there were no clouds and if I stared long the two kinds of blue became one there were no waves either, as if the wind had avoided me and abandoned all the blue colours around. so what now? I asked myself and after that, more days had passed. what if I eat and drink and sleep what would be the fourth step? would it be love or would it be the soul that needs to be feeded? there was silence, I could only hear my heartbeat. my heart still pumped blood into my body and my chest moved up and down as I was still breathing. I listened to my breath and I listened to my heartbeat... as if someone else was inside, as if another person was there breathing instead of me. I felt relieved. I was alone and I was alive, but

átmeneti kedves halál mikor az álom ránk talál a valóságot messze hagyja lelkünkből a dalt kicsalja kicsal valami dalt ott belül hova magunk sosem megyünk nem érintjük, nem találjuk csak reméljük, csak kívánjuk kezem fogod, úgy ballagunk átsétálunk egy kis kapun feljutunk a kerek holdra mintha házunk erre volna megpihenünk egy tisztáson gondolkodni elmúláson vidámságon és életen álmokon és képzeleten mondod nekem szép kedvesem én már mindig veled leszek együtt éjjel, együtt nappal megsegít az összes angyal szép kedvesem mondom neked velem te már sosem lehetsz álmainkban együtt járunk de a földön el kell válnunk

egy íves hajótest halad ablakod alatt sötét vizen meglep a mély csend és elragad tekinteted, a végtelen lélegzetem most te vagy tőlem éppolyan idegen mozdulatlan pillanat mint az ernyedő idegek tengerek hulláma között erőteljes nyugalmad lebeg árbocok büszkesége fölött a te szándékod integet mert itt minden a tied belőled árad szét a fény sakktábládon a tér üres megszűnik minden fekete-fehér bálnába bújtam, élő halott míg lesújtott rád is az ég alkímiád titkos anyaga vagyok a végtelen bennem véget ér

Things fail when I look back and I sense strong presence in my written memories. I was there, it was beautiful and (or because?) I could write about it. Now I'm longing for the same to happen. And it fails. I worship something that is gone. I don't see that the subject of my worship is made of the same substance as this moment. It's made of presence. What is wrong with it? Why do the words go far from me each time I reach out my hands for them? The more I'm longing the farther they go. I open the file I wrote yesterday. I open the one from two weeks ago, a year ago... Not much has changed. Sometimes it scares me how some thoughts keep circling in my head without realizing it. Circles. Unawares as I get on the train every morning. I look at the people on the platform. There are familiar and strange faces. I throw a smile randomly at someone then I follow with my eyes the wingbeats of a crow above the wires. This is your life - I'm whispering into my own ear. I stand