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Showing posts from February, 2020

Who am I?

Have you ever stopped for a second
And thought,
Thought about who you are,
Who you are right now,
How you differ from the you a few years ago,
Or a few months ago.
I bet you have.
But have you ever considered
How much you differ from the you
Just a week ago,
Or day ago,
Or even hours,
Or minutes ago?
That is the beauty.
In a mere second we become
Someone new and remarkably unrecognizable,
Yet stay old and familiar.
The beauty of who you are lies in
Seconds of micro changes.
So, stop.
Think about who you were this morning.
See how you've changed,
How you've evolved,
What you've learned,
And enjoy it.
This process,
This endless process
Is who you are.
Ever evolving being.
(Embrace it.)

Blank Page

I can remember the time when the blank page used to scare me,
Its remarkable whiteness,
Whiteness you only see when you should be doing something else,
But your mind is stuck,
Stuck on that whiteness,
Its pulsing little, tinny black line,
But not for long,
Soon it becomes big, threatening, scary,
Growing and expanding until it becomes the only thing you see,
Reminding you of your task,
Of its greatness,
Its meaning,
And you start to shiver,
You cramp up,
You hide.
But not anymore.
Now I sit and redirect my mind to the million of rushing thoughts in my head:
"Should I write this?",
"What if I make it red instead of blue,
would it make a difference?",
"Wait, wait, what word is it again?",
And the fear goes away.
The fear of the page
And its whiteness.
Yes, new fears step in,
But they are not fears in fact,
Just random blabber of ever racing creative mind,
And then,
Even that disappears,
And I write,
Write and write.
Nothing else exists,
Only me, the blank p…


That moment
That moment when you feel it
When you finally feel it
Feel the feeling you've longed for so long
The feeling you thought was just a fantasy
A dream
Something imaginary.
But no.
You can finally feel it
Feel it with your whole body
Your whole being
Slowly filling every inch of your every corner
Filling you up with unbelievable joy
Drawing a smile on your face
Slowly lifting your spirit from the mud of your very own ashes
Sending a tear of realization down your face
The feeling so strong
Your whole body shivers under it
Yet so simple you're wondering how the hell it took you so fucking long to finally feel it
It is the feeling of freedom
Complete freedom
Not of mundane things
But of your soul
There is nothing else
Nothing else exists in that moment
Nothing is real
Only it
The feeling
The utmost feeling of freedom.

Dead of Night

In the dead of night, I feel one.
I feel one with everything and everyone.
I feel one with yesterday's me,
With tomorrow's me.
With 10-years-ago me,
And 10-years-from-now me.
In the dead of night,
I feel like no time has passed,
No time exist,
Only me.
The multiverse of me.
In the dead of night, I am one.


Fill the tub with water
Get undressed
Light a candle
Switch off the lights
Get your right foot inside
and your left one
Grab onto the banks of the tub
and sit.
Take a deep breath
Close your eyes
and just dive.
Remain there.
Under the surface.
Listening to the sound of your heart.
Thumping sound.
Relaxing sound.
Only you and the sound.
Tup-tup tup-tup tup-tup.
If you need, emerge and take another deep breath.
But dive back in.
And listen.
Only tup-tup tup-tup tup-tup.
A heaven on Earth.
and just relax.


That sneaky little friend.
You wait for it,
Without patience,
Like a child waiting for Christmas.
And it seems to never come.
But when it does,
It is everything but Christmas.
It is more like shedding your own skin.
Bit by bit.
Parts of you are being ripped off
To be forever lost
And you like it.
You've waited for it so long,
Yet you hate it.
Every bit.
It hurts,
Losing parts of you.
It hurts,
Even though you feel the new parts coming it,
Slowly digging their way in,
Into your skin.
The process is long.
It is sad.
It is painful,
And it is necessary.
Once the last bit of your old skin sheds,
You are a new person,
And it is then that the real change begins.


Grab a mirror
Bring it close
And stare
Stare at yourself.
Notice your eyes
Your lips
Your nose
Your cheeks
Your skin.
Notice how you cannot look at the same time,
And I mean really carefully look,
At both eyes.
You just can't
No matter how hard you try
Only one at the time
One beautiful eye per one beautiful eye.
Notice how you cannot look at your nose
At the same time as your cheeks
It just doesn't work
One part of your beautiful face
Per one part of your beautiful face.
Notice how you cannot look at the tip of your nose
Or the inside of your eye retina
At the same time as the outside of your eye retina
Or the root of your nose
You simply can't
Not if you really look
Only spot per spot.
And notice
Notice how you cannot see your face, your body, the whole you at once.
So, why try to understand it all at once?
Why not understand it part per part?
Why strive for the whole without knowing the parts first?


Empty room
Dimmed light
Soft music playing in the background.
I sit
Starring into nothing
Just starring.
Unable to think
To speak
To move...
And then
A movement
Or at least I think.
And again
A movement
A feeling...
I can feel a teardrop falling down my paralyzed face
I can feel its descent down my eyeball
It slipping between the density of my eyelashes
Its slow ride down the nose-side lane
And its persistent movement disrupting my paralyzed cheeks.
An empty room
A paralyzed body
And a rebellious teardrop...

Cold War

Sometimes there is a storm inside you,
making your walls shake from the ground,
rapidly destroying everything you've been building for decades.
But sometimes there is no storm,
just a cold war.
You fight whether to push the button or no.
The button that will surely devastate not just everything you've spent decades building,
but your whole life.
Your whole life gone in mere millisecond.
And so you sit,
unable to move.


But it feels like 100.
A full glass,
Sitting on the brink of spilling over.
So you sit, thinking: "What to do?"
If you spill, the water can destroy people, places, the whole cities and civilizations.
All the goods will be lost forever.
All the hard gathered minerals will be wasted into the night.
So you sit, thinking: "What if I get a new glass? A bigger one? A wider one? No water will spill
then, and new can come in."
No fear of devastation, no fear of waste.
But, you have to choose wisely.
The glass you choose now might be the last,
And once it is filled up, there is no escaping.


A touch of soft nigh breeze
On pale, gentle cheeks.
Only deep dark night
And a few shinny stars.
A distant barking sound
And re-approaching light.
Not a sound.
Only calmness.
And the night.

Christmas Time

Dec 23
12 degrees Celsius
Sun, high and bright
Eyes closed
Feeling the warmth on my skin
As if it were summer
Thoughts rush
Pictures change
I travel
Travel to far places
Places I know
Places I cherish in my heart
Helsinki, Lisbon, Vienna, Novi Sad
San Francisco, Berlin, San Petersburg, Tallin…
I count and count,
And count
Even the places I have never been to
At least not physically
But still
They are a part of me
Buried somewhere deep in my heart
For me to visit them whenever I want
And so the sun shines
Bright and warm
And I sit
With my eyes closed
And travel
Travel in joy and happiness.


2:30 am
One of those
Those sleepless nights
But good
Not bad
Just lying
Watching movies
Having fun
Waiting for the dawn to come
And somewhere along the way
In between two episodes
I feel the need to readjust
So I sit up
And start to order the cushions around
And there it is
The stillness
The emptiness
The beauty
I see the road
Road that is usually so crowded
That one can surly imagine
Cars falling off
And now
Now nothing
Not a single car
Not a single soul
Just vastness
And calmness
Of it all
And it strikes me
As my mind and eyes race
To catch the fleeting images
Of the moving pictures on my laptop
The world outside my bedroom window
Holds still
As if dead
With nothing but lights still alive
Waiting for someone to pass
To acknowledge their existence
And so I do
If only for a second

Soothing Night

There is something soothing in the night,
In its calmness,
Its plainness,
Its darkness.
Something knowable,
Something touchable.
As if the night is the reflection of yourself,
Your inner space,
Opposite to the day's outer space.
In the night you see you.
The shadows of your utmost secretive thoughts become visible.
They start to get lines,
And dots,
And colours.
They start to get shape.
And you,
You feel at home.
Transcendence is calling you,
Whispering gently in your ear:
"Come out and play.
It is safe,
The safest it will ever be."
There is something soothing in the night.
Something secretive.

Do You?

Not a soul
Only sleeping parked cars
And distant flashing light.
My thoughts travel
Travel in time
Travel in space
To you
To me
To us.
Wonder if you're sleeping
Or lie awake,
Awake in sleepy winter night.
Do you think of me at all?
Does my name still casts a shadow over your heart, making it mine?
But wait.
A cat.
Reading my mind.
But wait.
Off she goes
Silently into the cold winter night
Leaving me with my thoughts,
My thought of you,
Of us,
Of me.


It strikes when least expected.
You feel happy,
Full of life,
Excited about the future,
And then you read a quote
Or hear a song
Or see an image
And it hits you.
And you cannot even put up a fight.
No, you cannot.
You are already down.
Knocked out.
Left with nothing but the feeling,
The feeling of loss,
The feeling of loneliness,
The feeling of not belonging.
And all because you're homesick.
Homesick for that hug,
That simple hug,
A moment a certain person puts his arms around you.
And you feel at home,
As if nothing can harm you,
As if nothing can go wrong,
Because you are safe,
Safe at home.
And home is that hug.
Home is he.

I Wonder

I wonder,
What goes through your mind?
Do you think of me at all?
If you do,
Do you wake up thinking about me
And shake the thoughts away
As if to shake of the nagging cat?
Or do I sneak into your head
A few times a day
When least expected
While you do your regular, routine things
Just to stir you up a bit?
I wonder,
Do you open a message board
And just stare
Thinking what would you say to me,
If anything at all,
And end up closing the board
Without saying a word
To keep yourself safe?
I wonder,
Do random things,
Such as a funny guy on a bus,
Make you think of me,
Of our conversations,
Our special moments?
I wonder,
Do you dream about us,
Not as we used to be,
But as we could be,
Somewhere beyond all the trouble
Of this everyday life
That divides us
By mileage
But also estrangement?
I wonder,
Do you still believe?
Do you still want me
Or have you given up
For it being too hard?
I wonder,
Would you let me pick your brain
One more time?
I wonder,
What does your heart desire?


I would like to
pull you close to me,
put my arms around you,
squeeze you,
rock you from side to side
and whisper in your ears:
'It is alright.
I am here.
You don't have to be afraid.
Everything is going to be alright.'
But I can't.
Not anymore.
It is not my task to do.
It is up to you.
Only you can do that.

Knowable Soul

That feeling.
The feeling when I see you.
Not your body and all its quirks,
Not even your behavior and its (un)predictability,
Nor your words and their rigidness,
But YOU.
Your soul.
The unexplainable beauty.
Not even an image,
But a feeling.
No, not a feeling.
A sensation.
Spring meadow full of sunny flowers...
Oh, no.
No words could explain it.
Portrait it.
Describe it.
It just is.
Before me.
As if it always were there.

Wanna Taste you All

All I wanna do is
Lock you in a room,
Strip you naked
From all your masks and walls
And dive in.
I wanna get to know you,
Every inch of your body,
Every move,
Every sound,
Every expression you make.
Wanna study your face,
Your breasts,
Your arms,
Your legs.
Wanna make you feel things you never could have imagined.
Wanna make you scream with joy and disbelief.
Wanna make you open up like you never did before.
Wanna make you talk and talk.
Wanna make you shut up and stare,
Stare in awe.
Wanna taste you all.
And wanna make you wish the same.


Late February day
The temperature just started to go up again
Little stroll through the town
And city lights
The smell of fresh air
The closeness of water
And its calmness.
But wait.
A distant music.
Delicate chords of acoustic guitar
Accompanied by soft, warm female voice.
As I approach, I see people standing
Coming to life,
Just like spring,
And I stand
And for a second
My thoughts travel
Travel high and above
The music
The people
The night.
As they travel
My eyes meet his
Across the bridge
On their own
And just for a second
Surrounded by a warm blanket of music
Two strangers are no strangers at all.