too bright and too distant

the silence of peace rang out too late,

too late for me;

the war drums beat their way

into my heart.

I would have written you a love poem,

if only I knew how.

you do understand that I know nothing

of love, don’t you?

I only know of the night. 

it’s not like the moon is too bright

and too distant all at once.

that name means nothing to me.

nothing, you hear?

don’t ask me,

I say unto the light,

how to say anything in German.

I simply don’t know.

in fact – don’t ask me a single question about my past.

I am a wandering star.

I don’t know the words

of this song by heart.

it was all a beautiful lie

it was nothing – it meant nothing

it meant everything to you,

the multiplicity of voices counter.

I never get much further than halfway,

Zeno’s paradoxes holding true to the last.

if only

all my sorrows

were as sweet as they are,


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