Your mirror is trying to get your attention.

It whispers in the night that you are ……

What are you? Doomed? Beautiful? Not alone?

Morning comes and you greet the new day.

You tell it it’s going to be ……. today.

What will your day be? Sad? Good? The last?

You go through your life, and you think things.

You tell yourself that you are so ……

How are you? Unlucky? Intelligent? Brave?

No, you’re not all powerful.

The way you choose to complete your dots

Doesn’t automatically make the universe obey.

Sometimes it doesn’t want to.

Sometimes it’s not up to you, and it needs

More than one person to shout the same thing

So it even starts noticing the whisper.

But your dots do make a difference.

If you negociate something, always go first.

No matter how unrealistic, it sets the tone.

You can’t get a star if you ask for dirt,

But you just might if you first ask for the moon.

You’re the only one who can decide

Between which answers the result is chosen,

And the only one who decides how long

You ignore the universe ignoring your answers,

And how hard you fight to make yourself heard.

So how will you complete your dots?

Space and time

When you touch me, softest caress
I become, and can’t supress
The whole of space and places thousands
Mountains, flowers, rivers dozens.

And late at night, when I’m all yours
You’re opening up all my pores
Compressing all my feeling tight
I’m time, and all that moment’s bright.

The whole universe I feel,
None to little and all real
When I’m yours and yours alone
I’m the universe my own.

Down above

You need weights holding you down
To not sink into the ground and disappear,
And balloons full of joy and laughter
To keep you from drifting on a breeze.
It’s a special kind of hell
To be so free, so unfettered,
That you see the bottom of the earth
When lying in your bed, looking for stars.
You’d think not knowing between
Up and down is terrifying. And it is.
But you learn the rules after a while
And discover you were better off not knowing
That the lowest pit of hell
Is so far above you that
Your neck starts to hurt
If you stare at it for too long.
And the floor isn’t any better,
The gilded staircase of heaven
Hanging just out of reach,
A jump too big to clear the gap.
The place between the corners of the rhombus
Is the most perplexing like that,
Collapsing space in a tight spiral
That brings the extremes together.
I guess you can only start crawling now
Until you get some distance
And can change your perspective again.
You might not get out the right side,
In that happy, peaceful place of rest,
But there’s always the long road around
That gets you there in the end.
Just start from the bottom –
It’s straight down above from here.