27

Mai 19

Philosopher’s block

I’d like to write the texts I need –
Have them all ready by-for me –
But all there is is a blank page
And your name in my head so vain.
In vain – in vain – sickness unto me.
Joy, sad, angst, and bored are after me:
Up and down hovers my brain.
Joy, sad, angst and bored are in my veins
And my balance behind it failed.

I’d like to write the texts I need –
Have the answers for you and me –
Alas there’s emptiness behind my eyes –
Philosophy seems done with me.

Then – there – a thought – takes all my sight
And I think down the texts we need.
What fuels such energy? Love – loss?
Angst – or bored at most? “There there.”
When in distress philosophy sees me
Then life I see much more easy.

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