Calm was everything
Calm was everything and so quiet that I didn’t wonder about...
It was calm and the bonfires in the valley were shining. The thick and distorted trunk lied in the flames
and fed them. I was fed and sewed, stitch by stitch. Stock by stock burned flame by flame. It was quiet.
It burned well, the big, distorted trunk. You don’t search here, you find. But the big trunk found that I was
searching something different and turned the tide. It turned around and lightened the big animal which
never allows half circles. I had smelled it’s essence and I always strove for and spoke about and wrote
about and painted it’s colors on white surfaces and praised it’s power.
Now it was there. But different was it’s character and exactly the same. Loud was the animal and hotter
than the sun and faster than the wind and stronger than the strokes of my blanket and more distincted than
the distinction of my torn open eyes, my words which fell out of my mouth like pearls of a necklace,
a necklace which never closes again.
It devoured and burned my ears, so that I had to listen even more, to it’s teeth which jerked, it’s muzzle that
gorged, it’s throat which retched and faster swallowed than it’s teeth jerked. I ran and threw my stuff into
the night which should have retrieved them from the animal. But the animal was an animal of the night and
had sharper eyes than I would ever have and bit faster in the night than I could run and came closer to me,
ready to jerk me as well and still it took me in its center, when I saw that there everything was dead and
didn’t burn anymore, when I saw that the animal could only be round and grew, steadily and into the glory of
it’s size, into the glory of it’s torrential violence and I saw the things burn, the night was supposed to protect
and stood in the center of the black hole and saw the animal galling and birds pierced through the night,
who was clear of the flames’ red, whose face was pale of the smoke and whose spirit was calm, calmer
even from face to face.
The animal and me in it’s womb and above us the night, who watched quietly. The animal which ate quietly
and me who stood there and sang and who remained silent and who had to listen to the animal, who had to
listen, to listen how her god devoured her god and she still had to be alive.
Her god had always been two and one, he had been the violence of the animal and the womb of the
mountain. And now her God fed the God and became God again with the night’s eyes.
And she had still the eyes of a human being and had still to see. She saw and had to see, more than she
ever saw and more endless than the face of the night. So she sat down, and when she couldn’t sit anymore
she stood and when she couldn’t stand anymore, she lied down, and when she couldn’t lay anymore she
stood up and walked around in the animal’s black stomach, which was growing endlessly like the desert
and looked into the countless eyes of the night which were shining quietly, face to face, and endless galled
the animal, it galled down into the valley and threw it’s red light on her and the noise of it’s feast that she
And when the night closed slowly her eyes, the animal still devoured and it’s teeth jerked and it’s red light
and it’s pale smoke screamed into the light face of the morning which rose up slowly and didn’t reply
anything, which offered it’s red, soft fruit like every morning and remained silent.
After ashes and smut the skin became visible, which was white, even whiter and dead...