Sleeping in the darkest hole,
Playing creature as a role,
Shocking, strange and insecure,
Greedy handed, self unsure,
Opened eyes and mouth to live,
Chewing words to make believe.
Wrote a line, or two, or so,
Tried to find a place to go,
Felt the rain fall down your face,
Heard the drops fall in disgrace,
Faced upon the driest grass,
Left the trees by you to pass,
Slapped in anger someone’s cheek,
Hiding that you’re small and weak.
Ran across the longest road,
Changed its every sign or code,
Talked to devils, talked to God –
That’s self-talking, swept by mud.
Tin gods stealing off your mind,
Truth out there for you to find,
Heavy curtains hiding treasures
They stay put to all endeavors.
One last creature to retrieve
From the longest disbelief.
Here’s for you one more to stand –
That is life’s and death’s command,
That is dying when believing
And it’s living when achieving
One small pearl on the world’s booth,
That is one and called The Truth:
God has found a way to pay us –
Fuel for the creature of chaos.



Julia Kretsch
14 April 1997
Constanta