december 20, 2009juli 23, 2011 Door Bout Vercnocke

Left

There is little left, as if all the snow
has melted, all the birds unwinged,
fallen angels, lovers lost in agony,
their song is echoed by the water
now that keeps on pouring in my
home land, o, there is little left, a
treetop reaching out, six thousand
rings that lead to this, o, there is
little left, all has melted, lovers lost.

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Enclosed I roam from star to star, I travel endlessly, I whisper and my breath unfolds behind me as a vale, a shooting star, a comet on its way and growing, growing with each lightyear passing by, O yes, there is much pleasure in this roaming , it is creation of a Master Plan and still this roaming is continuing, and when from time to time I reach the boundaries of my confinement, I feel a sudden shiver, as if some unseen hand is there to push me back, or could it be the vale behind that keeps on coming back, I wonder. So here I am, inside and out, no matter how the journey goes, there always will be worlds to enter and others then to leave behind, the roaming will continue , on and on, no ending, no beginning, so is the roaming in the Womb of Being, the cavern of His Master’s Plan.