The Last Song

When the last song is sung, nothing is denied—not love, not guilt, not longing.

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Come let us sit by this brightly burning fire;

let us forget all and everything, the good and the dire

Let the high flames defrost our frozen souls,

all the cold voids within and all the black holes

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Come let us search for and grab our broken violins;

let us sing songs, and remember and repent our sins

Let the warmth of our company mend our broken hearts,

all the joys and regrets - together and in parts

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Come let us lament, the fading memory of old love;

let us caress our nostalgia - the delicate, grey dove

Let the stories we tell mark our long and sad past,

let them cherish our tears, which dried up so fast

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Come let us remember innocence, which was lost forever;

let us applaud corruption, the seduction was so very clever

Let us rethink all our deeds, so lofty and so dark,

let us not pass a harsh judgment, with a red mark

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Come let us sit by this brightly burning fire;

let us blow it anew, the flames loftier and higher

Let us say farewell to everything, ambition, and desire;

warmly welcoming the end, the savior, and the pyre

The Anatomy of Longing

What if longing wasn’t a feeling—but a creature, a curse, and a companion?

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Longing is an ache - a deep pulsating ache,

relief is an effort, which the ache cruelly cripples

Throwing a single stone and troubling a silent lake,

creating countless circles - outspreading ripples

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Longing walks a road - a long and lonely road,

sighing with each indulgence, so delicious is the sin

Tired and exhausted, longing bears its heavy load,

pleasure is the gain, a new loss with every new win

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Longing is the steel - the cold and heavy steel,

it is shackled to my feet, my bloody, blistered feet

Birthing countless agonies, the wounds that never heal,

I am addicted to its taste; the poison is so sweet

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Longing is a fragrance - an old, faded fragrance,

it’s embedded in my soul, my oh so tired soul

It rides the autumn wind, a bold and cruel flagrance,

engraved are the words, regrets on a scroll

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Longing is a swan - a floating black swan,

it sings a lullaby, a soft and sad lullaby

It is here for a minute, and then it is gone,

haunted is the tone, its verses all wry

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Longing is the darkness - a fearsome looming darkness,

it heralds the final doom, the black and grey doom

It really is a curse, so vivid in its starkness,

fear fills the sky, and hope cannot bloom

The Custodian of Unfulfilled Dreams

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A kingdom where broken dreams go to die—and a king who refuses to abandon them.

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Far away from all this filth and all this stinking mold,

there is a secret and silent realm of unfulfilled dreams

The realm is colorless, neither silver nor purple nor gold,

no laughter or singing, just a chaos of cries and screams

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Each dream, once it’s shattered, and in pain it cries,

it enters the realm, hearing some command unspoken

The horn of time does not blow; it is silent and so wise,

as the dreams lay trampled, crying and utterly broken

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There he sits at the gate, the old and tattered King,

the sad custodian of dreams, he protects and lovingly guards

He has neither a throne, nor a seal, nor a royal ring,

he wears only a crown of thorns and sharp glass shards

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The dreams are his children, a few are even his very own,

he cradles their delicate heads and lovingly treats their sores

Some dreams have broken wings, and some have never flown,

yet he loves them all, whether they are his own, mine, or yours

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The King has tears in his eyes; he cries over the wounded dreams,

he knows they are going to finally die, his efforts are all in vain

The dreams whimper as life bleeds out, in rivulets and in streams,

the King knows they are the last drops of a rare desert rain

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Each dream, when it breathes its very last and silently dies,

he gently kisses its dead eyes, singing the last lullaby

The King is sad, oh, he is so very sad, but still he desperately tries,

caring for dreams, without asking ‘to what end’ or even a ‘why’

Once I wanted to be immortal

A haunting journey from the hunger for immortality to the longing for silence.

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Once I wanted to be immortal;

experience each pleasure that life was offering,

and live each dream, my imagination was proffering

But then I saw, and then I observed,

each pleasure came with regret and too much pain,

that dreams were a loss, and not really a gain

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Once I wanted to be immortal;

live each day with laughter, my heart brimming with joy,

and love the whole world, its beauty, and its clever ploy

But then I saw, and then I observed,

all joy was fake, and happiness was only opium,

that love was a farce, enacted from an egoistic podium

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Once I wanted to be immortal;

experience all my wisdom could understand and reach,

learn all the lessons that life could ever teach

But too many years have passed, and I have grown up;

now I just want to fade away and dissolve without a trace,

and sleep a blissful sleep, far beyond this time and space

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Now, every trace of my presence, I just want to erase,

the glory is all gone, and extinguished is the blaze

Now, I just want to find a way out of this fucking maze,

I just want to get out, without any kudos, without any praise

Go where there is no more me, no desires or ambition,

where all is always silent, the realm of the Great Magician