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Kerstin Centervall

SONGSOPTOK THE WRITERS BLOG | 9/10/2014 |





I AM A DREAMER.


In dreams I live both days and night
to that I'm not alone confined
In all my subtle ways the mind I fill
with fresh scents of cunning skill.

The darkness plays my pulsing beat
approaching me with a humming sound
and light is open an adventuring field
where I hastily enter but late lay down.

The glorious mornings raise my state of blood
and plant some actions in my hands
making my words and deeds to flower buds
on growing fields they flourish stand.

The evenings are all my dream's festivity
 my will of heart and taste for beauty
my Knightly ball in its divinity
where I can dance and left behind the duty.

Upon my face a smile or a kiss for good night
I seek for comfort thy silent breath
I leave the earthly labour and swiftly glide
into the arms which carry life before death.


I COULD TELL YOU


I could tell you how easy it is to fly
from the crystal moon up high
how it is to softly sweep away
with the deep Sea's wind and waves.

I could tell you how the wind is feeling
how the air rises to the blue ceiling
lifting me from the shore
to beautiful places not seen before.

I could tell you the touch of a near fire
how the hands get wrinkled an dry
how the slow autumn reached my windows
and took notes about the smoky cinders.

I could tell you all I want and manage to decide
all what is holy I truly in you confide
I could tell you how life passes through my fingers
and whatever, in days and nights lingers.

I could tell you the whole of our existence
aromas of love, smelling from a distance
the everything, cause in all of this true reality
I have only you to wish for and  in front of me.


SOMETIMES.


Sometimes, I remember how close you were
but invisible like an airy nocturnal
seeking me in my numb drowsiness
and my presence in the deep kernel.

That presence withdrawn from days and light
laid in a chest for never being shown
buried deeply for the eyes´ sight
in the mud where no flowers grow.

Sometimes you untangled my dark worries
knitted with winds and salted tears
you tried hard to break the frontiers
and the remains of me so full of fears.

In secret you turned your words into flames
the presence of me so tightly sealed
but every sign of padlocks you tamed
and to the deep core of me you appeal.

Sometimes and sometimes my presence is here
in that presence where we sometimes meet
you taught me a secret travel, with no arrival
in your nearness of wise words and flames heat.

One day and sometimes my presence will stay
and you can seek it, projected with pure light
and it will never stop on a halt of my way
or being in absence for the eyes´ sight.




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