Introduction: 02-Dec-2018 07:38
What she knew to tell me
there is one which tells you.
“the fears are mine not, hers neither
yet any man illusion seeks either,
upon which his actions he holds
from the fear which now he beholds .״
Somewhere My father is buried within
my lips. my language.
Somewhere, yet at all he knew that not.
“Lower your language not! Not for anyone”,
he once told me.
He was the son of his father.
I am the son of my father.
pre-girl song which not yet been told
yet in the village it was behold.
and people where whispering, stirring
as Snakes for Adam and Eve they were peering
and the willow sang endlessly
of pre-girl, crowned bare-nakedly
for wherever she walks, any place she had been
birds chirped, was that sternly mean?
and she, pre, almost, just not yet…
thus her formed image he met.
I fly low not and I fly high not.
I was named once Johnathan,
and perhaps I am from the seagulls’ family.
Which side of that family, I know not.
He certainly flew along aside me not once.
I have no manual instructions further on.
Gurdjieff in “beelzebub’s tales to his grandson”
recommends in his introduction.
Dedicated to you and to you.