With presence as reality

1. December 2014 af Maria Guldager

Sometimes the world goes away

and I am alone

in the tomb

and its rainforest of doubt

whose water

no one is listening to

is there to drown me over and over

and I do not move, how could I?

With no civilisation in sight

the choice between pleasure and suffering

has been flooded.

I am not reserved

I have never been reserved

What would reserved look like on me?

I would be waiting for someone to finally listen to me

I would be waiting in a continuum of open beliefs, untested, unspoken

I stay impatiently unreserved, as I share and I share and I share

when I am in the world

which I so often only see at a distance

after sharing

myself into pieces.

As the noise from the world passes

the stillness of the future is heard

someone finally heard it

I heard myself waiting for a future

I walk around when I am supposed to lie still

it is cold inside but I don’t feel it

I don’t feel it

but I want more of it

My time in the world is over

and I want it to stay over

yet I find myself waiting for daybreak

waiting for the end to end

with my head under water I swallow as much as I miss

I miss you

I miss back in the day

I miss the future I did not have

I miss the future I am in

I miss a world I have never seen

I miss the languages I have never spoken

I miss the none-being

I miss the decisions nobody has

I miss the time being solid instead of fluid

I miss my relations being fluid instead of solid

I miss not being thirsty

but how can I miss things I have never known here

with my head under water

doubt flowing into me and pouring out of me

the world I cannot see soaks my vision

More than anything I want to see the sky

but every time my gaze turns upwards

and I allow the tears to be pulled by gravity

a noise distracts my gaze and ravels me back into

this dry earth, a middle ground of dirt,

beyond which I have no foundation,

beneath it’s immeasurable hope

I am stuck in doubt and what is worse,

the presence as the essence

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