Life, meeting its fragmentation
Meeting its unification
Meeting itself
Waiting for itself
Being this immediate shape-shifting
Looks like being born
And growing
Sometimes Thriving
Sometimes Blooming
Sometimes Crippling
Wilting
Decaying
Dying
Life
Sometimes a mother who nurtures,
then one that starves you,
a father, that one time protects, another time abandons you
Cries of lust and terror
Sighs of pleasure and despair
Life birthing death, death embracing life
A rotten smell, that carries the subtle scent of the distant blooming gardens from a no-man’s-land, behind, ahead, beneath, beyond
The smell of decay, as innocent as the scent of a flowering blossom
The innocence
Of the never changing
Of the ever changing
Roaming through the torture chambers
Roaming through the sacred temples
They all live here
The saints and the sinners
Angels and demons
Dreams of justice and eternal peace
A neverending love story
And their ruins
Children born of love and born of rape
Children growing up, nourished by tender love,
Deeply wanted
And children growing up, licking love from the knives,
Their desire carved deep into their flesh and minds
And longing becomes the fuel of life
To get out
To get back home
Early death of that which was not allowed to unfold
Long lives that should not have been at all
Succeeding and failing
Fixed and broken
Each longing for a better, a next life
Buried
Blending indistinguishably
One into another
Reaching hands
Intertwined in nurture and abuse
War and peace
Revenge and redemption
Love and neglect
Abundance overflowing in the blooming gardens,
And in the bloodshed of the battlefields
Escalating into collapse
Of beauty, of terror
Merging as equilibrium
Sublime
Ever intangible