to the Boy nExt dooR

To you I will open my heart, I will open it to you - and nobody else! There're secrets - and the secret, there're tears - and the cry, and always a curse of doubt, and only a chance of prayer about me, it's all spinning and whirling and intervenes to me. Can I love you if I scorn myself? I crumple these pure papers, as the foggy foolish fears round up my soul: what's from that it no or will be, and when, and isn't now too late?

♣

My childlike wishes haven't left me still. - What do you want? - The bluebird! But the next question baffles me: -What will you do with it when (if) you caught it? It's really variously: to let it out, to cage it or maybe to cook and eat?

♠

Where are you - whom I'm searching about; how often I take for you some others and so lose you out of my sight. Are you drunk and reeling in the moonless dark? (Are you) standing at the crossroads? (Are you) hunting for another heart? Why don't I call you? With the mess, cooked of strangest thoughts in mind, among lanes of my long expectations, at the open window beyond its drawn curtains - I'm waiting for you. My old wind is making some spells - it's mixing a smell of future with a smell of despair in the damp gusts. I forgive your lack of roads but never any delay, so I bring you fear for a fear and pain for a pain. I've tired of my waiting and idleness, I'll take a way - we'll miss each other.

♣

Who are you? Maybe he or not again? My odd doubts are turning to the crowd of them: it's my wind incites them; the wind wants to take me away - from him, not from you, but if you were the same? And what's the time, when my heart will trample my waiting and my look will break the parting? Today? Tomorrow? Had it passed by me yet, while I was chasing for chances with my net?

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He's silent (pretendng to be just numb). But are you coming?

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And about happiness, who has it? Is it a sense? Or emotion? Only euphoria? So are you happy? Are you happy without me? (And is it really possible - to be happy by yourself?) What are you talking, what is love? Knock on the soul - loose and desirous. Be knocking! Burn your heart up with the light of my eyes, turn it to ashes with their flame - how else can you learn it? You'll never know me, nobody knows, and I don't well enough; it's a thick deep secret. Look into my soul - then you'll feel blind, but what are you searching here and why for? When you come to be my guest, I'm free to let you in. Yet there's the key to my heart somewhere; I can't give it - you must get. Hold my hand, see and listen: so faith moves the mountains, so love opens the doors, so hope covers both of them with its wings - from envy and idleness.

♠

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Ashely