Do you know how to let a life die
like the corpse of a swan frozen still in the river
caught by winter’s grip and crushed
– the remorseless last embrace.
I enjoy to walk the frozen paths alone
where the force of life which is death does not negotiate
where no one else belongs
but those born of harshness
where severity dwells in the line between
alive
or not.
I cross these days
because I died already
to be born again
in the core of harshness’ grip.
It is the very ones who come from darkness
who know the light
and bear it to a world which has extinguished
where the ones who call us
“DEVIL!”
play the trick
– the most cunning one of all.
Notes From Afar 