I promise to open my mind and soul to whatever is in the deep blue. Between the gap of science and emotion.
I promise myself to grow into the space of calm and the eternal flame.
I promise to fix my gaze in the eyes of those who share the path of love and empathy.
I promise myself to forgive and be instead of not being and letting grudge win.
I promise myself to play the song of faith and hope.
Against all odds.
(c) ideenlese
You know who brought you into this world. Child of mother and father.
You feel that your real origin is elsewhere. You come from everywhere.
You are part of the greatest.
Let’s rock the universe. Now!
Don’t waste any more time.
Rock your life
(c) ideenlese
I am not the saint, not the great soul.
I don’t hover over things,
not over what you feel and say.
I read between your lines,
sensitive in recognizing, that’s me.
And recognizing also hurts me.
I am not the saint, not the great soul.
I am not the mother of love.
I’m just a woman with a heart that can break.
(c) ideenlese
You are the one with the sword.
Guardian of my treasure, which I carry with me,
still hidden from the world,
the henchmen of trials and tribulations.
My guardian angel,
my wise advice,
my inner voice and my pain.
You are the one with the sword,
defender of my heart and soul.
This song is for you, my inner cherub,
who shows me departure and way.
This song is for you, my inner cherub,
who you will never leave me,
from eternity to eternity.
You are the one with the sword,
guardian of my treasure,
which I carry within me.
Faithful companion on my way,
which is arduous and rough.
This song is for you because
I love you, my inner cherub,
wisdom of my being,
I love you as you love me.
You are the one with the sword of lightness.
I am the one with the sword of love.
This song ist for you and me, Cherubim of Love.
(c) ideenlese
Lied für Cherub
Du bist derjenige mit dem Schwert.
Hüter meines Schatzes, den ich mit mir trage,
noch immer vor der Welt verborgen,
den Gefolgsleuten der Prüfungen und des Leids.
Mein Schutzengel,
mein weiser Rat,
meine innere Stimme und mein Schmerz.
Du bist derjenige mit dem Schwert,
der Beschützer meines Herzens und meiner Seele.
Dieses Lied ist für dich, meinen inneren Cherub,
der mir Aufbruch und Weg zeigt. Dieses Lied ist für dich, mein innerer Cherub,
der du mich nie verlassen wirst,
von Ewigkeit zu Ewigkeit. Du bist der mit dem Schwert,
Hüter meines Schatzes,
den ich in mir trage.
Treuer Begleiter auf meinem Weg,
der mühsam und rau ist. Dieses Lied ist für dich, weil
ich dich liebe, mein innerer Cherub,
die Weisheit meines Wesens,
Ich liebe dich, wie du mich liebst.
Du bist derjenige mit dem Schwert der Leichtigkeit.
Ich bin derjenige mit dem Schwert der Liebe.
Dieses Lied ist für dich und mich, Cherubim der Liebe.
Herzlichen Dank an Giselahttp://www.gottes-bilderbuch.de für die Übersetzung- zurück – in meine Muttersprache.
Schwüler Schlund klafft, abgründig tief, in gähnende Leere, unausweichliche Ausweglosigkeit, kopfloses Unterfangen, Loch im Herz, im Sommer.
Hoffnung auf Herbstzeitlose, goldenes Erwachen der Kletterlust, der Grube entspringen, Altweibersommer, Löcher stopfen, visionäre Leidenschaft.
(c) ideenlese
Stille wiegt mich in die Zeit, wie eine Melodie,
aus der ich gefallen war, ein leiser Ton nur,
weit hinausgelehnt aus dem Fenster,
gesprengter Zeitrahmen.
Stille zeitigt meine Zeit, ein Summen erst,
dann Worte,
lebendigen Spiels, Zeitzeichen tönen,
zeitlos dem Puls der Zeit huldigen sie,
dem Rhythmus der Zeiten.
Stille, am Nerv der Zeit getroffen, hohes C,
noch rau, gebrochen, zaghaft, ungestützt,
ungeschützt,
liegt sie, zwischen den Zeitlinien,
Ruhezeit, bis zum richtigen
Zeitpunkt, Segen des Zeitlichen einkehrt,
von ewig Zeit zu Ewigkeit.
As time goes by.
Gezeitenwende.
©ideenlese 2021
Still without voice and language, however, a soft sound, still rough in the throat,
not deep enough to hold the soul, it sings from me, a small hum.
Clear the intellect, yes I can, yes I am a woman with a head, thank God, that’s how
I survive the conspiracies and absurd resistance.
There I stand like a newly born calf, on swaying legs, pudding in my knees, but
ubright, yes upright, looking forward and the question still in my neck, how could
it get me like that?
I have no weapons, defenseless, helpless in the face of the rough subjects,
only the flight remains, the flight forward.
Here I am again.
Timid with a silent hum.
(c) ideenlese
Deep dark, painful days, go down to the ground,
take the native language, speechless drop,
take your breath away, stunned persistence, solidification.
Your element left, revealing your energy,
you wallowed in the mud of stupidity.
Wrapped in a carpet full of weaving flaws.
You feel guilty and dirty.
How deep you have sunk.
Then a voice, very softly at first, from afar, comes closer,
becomes clear and then you see clearly. Gifts to grow, she tells you,
gifts to grow are those dark days, the deep abysses.
She reminds you, that you are delicate, too delicate for scratchy wool,
for careless words and rudeness.
Filigree as you are, there is nothing for you to do for the know-it-all,
the self-proclaimed experts, the deluded narcissists,
you cannot do anything for the false priests and false scholars.
Trust yourself, your inner voice that tells you what is true and what is false,
over and over again.
Forgive yourself, arise, let go of the heaviness, return home, to silence.
Rest, breathe your breath, the breath of your own kind. Take a bath in the light of forgiveness,
cleanse yourself of the filth of delusion, see who you really are.
The time to forgive yourself is now,
at the center of pain there is peace.
You are from the land of Alma, you are too delicate for scratchy wool, for careless words and rudeness.
Filigree as you are, there is nothing for you to do for the know-it-all,
the self-proclaimed experts,
you cannot do anything for the false priests and false scholars.
You can fly, fly, Lady of Alma, fly through pain , fly into the wisdom that is your wisdom and that of your people.
You have freedom, you are freedom, true freedom. Found ages and ages ago, it’s your element. Remember who you are and you will heal.
(c) ideenlese*
*temporarily silent in my mother tongue.
Alma
Inspired by the Spanish meaning, Alma here means soul and spirit, also mind. In Italian, Alma goes back to almus, which stand for nourishing and fertile. For me personally the essential balance of human existence and beyond. Last but not least, it is about spiritual nourishment, universities are somtime called alma mater.
