Why is it sometimes so hard to find the words?
Why is it most often, when I swim into the quiet, clean mildness?
When everything on this world falls into place, and when I feel only peace. Peace in the clean, clear emptiness. In the emptiness, where I still somehow wander alone In the emptiness, where in this loneliness I still feel the people, persons, who are close to me. But I cannot see them. I don’t know. At least it seems that way.
Memory. Where did you go, memory? Memory. Of the old days. Memory. Why do I remember the birth, but nothing from before, memory? Memory. Are you alive? Or are you just a personification of my imagination, which is lazily streaming my life and energy from reality into thought. Into a world of illusions, symbolism, myths, metaphors, personifications and symphonies. Memory… My friend, rival, or a demon? Memory, farewell.
I don’t need you anymore, memory. Go your own way, as you have always done and wished for, memory. Go and come back, when you wish. I will not be waiting for you, but I will be glad of a visit, as I would be of an old friend, and I will share with you again, memory.
I don’t need you anymore. I have learned to trust myself. I don’t need you anymore, memory. You, and the consolation of the old days. I don’t know, but I see more, when I am alone. I don’t understand, but I know what I must, where I wish to go. I don’t know how, but I understand why I am here. Although maybe not in words. Memory. When I die, we will meet whole again, you and me. Without holes in the faces and masks tied up around them. When I die…