The Creator

Edición de la obra The Creator

The Deceived Devil No sound, no light The world beyond existence Dead time No evil, no good Everything sleeps A deceived devil languishes THE LIGHT-BEARER The Light-Bearer I By turmoil into the darkness By a blazing cry By storm and conquest The Creator The Pantokrator The World-Maker The Light-Bearer The Demiurge The Conquistador The Lover Of the emptiness he fills out II There is nothing to move before him As there was nothing before him Noble conquest Fire and growth Toward his self through emptiness he flies Emptiness hovers in him He eats her She eats him The most beautiful face that no one ever saw Too big to be seen His hand touched everything His eyes watched from everywhere III What is the secret What deceit, what shadow What is our delusion about him We are so little with a big desire Still piercingly glimpse We see the surroundings But don’t see below We are the fire, the desire Rational nerve of matter What shape and sound are looked for in us What so we look for in them? IV The world sleeps, wakes up, The world hurries, warms up, cools down; The world is a navy in an empty ocean. We are castaways or sailors We look at the outside We look at the sea Not knowing we are divers We game, remembrance, fragrance We spring, bloom We see growth, beauty, torment We decay, reach old age, darkness We are ice in the end Ice to ice Dragon From nothing he comes alone, Fire and sound he is, Passionate and beautiful Assimilates into two worlds Two armies he leads Enchanting With smiles he deceives, Glares and invites With fire, when he awakes. His face, Invisible because of greatness, might, Into a shape he transforms and divides By invisible light that connects and Shapes his nervous system. He nourishes with his bloodstream, Spreading his breath Forceful and passionate he breaks. He is the fire. I am the fire, To his own self he says Fire only listens to fire, Fire is the source of shape I am the source of fire, but He thunders, flares, breaks His fire will not end When it ends From ashes he rises again Whispering Targets You know good, You know good is not always good. You show both faces And hide them at the same time One with one With your target you make the one Your target is your other pole Your target, the Devil’s intent Born from desire and Formidable Yet too benevolent, immobile If without a target. The biggest good sleeps Awakened by fire and the fiery blast Tempest and bustle. Target gives birth to light, Target toward which you direct your light; Every birth is painful; The target almost unconquerable. What feeds fire? Uprising mass Spins and hovers in space; A dreadful law it hides. Through whispers you maintain Your wide expanded self Voracious Ruttish Vibrant toward the target You temper yourself Whisper to yourself Run away You know how huge you are What kind of force and law, Lowness and grandeur, a majesty Do shine from you. Whispering yet, you soften A faraway way And the target starts to whisper Flight There is nobody to hear you. Is the journey more important than the destination The Ocean or the Shore Await you Confuse you, observe. You—the Ocean You—the Shore Before the darkness You fill the emptiness with your voice Echoes wait on the way; If they are stronger Journey becomes easier. Letters are guides, swooping birds Guiding you with glimmers. You are your own teacher. Moving closer by intuition; It has been long since you sailed But still in the beginning; You uttered countless letters You talked. Every sound—a new bird. Birds grow with space; You follow their chirping; They fly with full force Faithfully waiting for you. You send them ahead So behind is always ahead You are closing the circle Continuing the spiral Letters compete in a race, They wave to you; Your dream is their truth; Without your dream there would be no letters There would be no harbor, no shore Or a true flight A Curtain of Light A drop of light becomes the Curtain of light. With warmth of drops The light retells, reaffirms; By sound and scent From the light Shining pearly fingers call. You are part of the image, an effigy You cannot see it, You only follow the shining hand You gaze at one another; Faraway by touch, the hand watches you Takes you to carry you Into a vortex. Film of infinity before you was an Alternation of untranslatable impressions. Forgetting yourself You submerge into the light. Pure Light By myself By yourself In myself I turn to you Confess You talk Far away Deeper Into myself I recognize the resonance I surmise you, I hear your breath, an undertone I see your contours So soft You do create Give birth and fix upon return Measure yourself by yourself Your word is your spirit; If only you utter it, It becomes a shape One word—a star A

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