You cast life into me
as the sun casts life into the germ
If too far there will be no blossom
if too close there will be fire
And I will always grow towards you
and in so doing I will always burn
But must I be chided even in spite of knowing this?
The first ripe apple in the apple tree
in the brightest red of screaming pride and the first to fall
threatens the sleeping caterpillar below
But when it emerges a butterfly
and beats its wings in first flight
it will blow the apple of its branch
And in its shadowy fall
colour crimson of a bleeding wound:
The apple, verily, is at the mercy of the butterfly!
And when the butterfly, too, eventually falls out of the sky
and the apple seed will have grown into a tree
They will have given way for love
For it tastes much sweeter than strife
See the butterfly now drink of the apple blossom
See in return the conception of its fruit:
Yes, to surrender to love is to arrive
to surrender to strife is to leave
Then if the apple fell and through its seed rose again
when I burned reaching for you
I will have burned into fertile ash
from which new love will grow
At the mercy of the sun there is burning and growing
It stifles and gives passage
It equals the end to the beginning
Or is the end just that?
Because although sleeping in this world opens the gate to another, however real,
is the dream not only a child of sleep and from this does one not wake up?
This matters not
for all doubt is weak in the face of belief
I know because I choose to know
I choose to know because I believe:
the apple falling, and me burning from reaching for you
they are the apple seed rising, and the fertile ash from which new love will grow
But it will be in vain if from the past there is no learning
Does sprouting up not imply root taking down?
For peace to last, must victims of war not be mourned?
Therefore look into the eyes of the past
as though they are the eyes of your father and mother that set you forth, entirely
Look into those eyes before they close
and you will build a secure road
and confidently you will choose way when the river forks
Ignore them and you will wander
wander along a path that leads nowhere
For it is only paved with the muddy stubbornness
of current joy
of satisfying flesh
of here and now
This path will wash away
even before the turn and without you knowing
And you will not discern
the direction paved and in need of paving
and in this way estrange from the past
and confuse it with the future
If severed from the past
one loses way in paving, in endless wandering and paving in the here and now
So find the purple-black bilberry and consume
the years and seasons it survived before it gave fruit
which from now on it will always bear
In its root, in its stem, in its leaf, in its fruit
it has understood the lessons of the years and seasons past
and has sometimes shed a leaf
in silence
The bilberry is enduring as lovers are hurting
And all lovers have shed tears
in silence
But this, too, is only in preparation of bearing fruit
For is the iron sword not hardened after having been quenched in water?
Does the sun not reach deeper into the forest after the thunderstruck tree has fallen?
As sunset implicates sunrise
Lovers’ tears implicate hearts fusing
Choose to know this,
Weaken doubt, strengthen belief
Now, go, love
Go
Arise anew out of the ash of my burning
And distinguish past from future and bloom
Unconditionally and always, bloom
Believe and it becomes real
The end a beginning
Shed your fear and open the gate for me
and in the gust my ash and the apple seed will settle in your garden
and new love will grow
If in your heart there is half a beat that beats for me
go stir the ash and in silence shed a tear
and look in my eyes and see in them the past and future
It may be the only thing needed
For our hearts to fuse
Find the blossom and drink therefrom
And see the conception of fruit
Trust that I know where to go when the river forks
Go
Go, love
Go
Go see your heart beats for me
Go