(c) Nicole Köhler
 

I observe the vast evening sky. The mind of a man cannot fully comprehend the scale of such being. No devices of technology nor wisdom of philosophies and religions can explain this infinity. All of them draw something from it. They pursue to narrate our tales, they thrive to let everyone know about the world around us, for every ideology has its basis and the thrill of mystery surpasses our contentment of knowledge.

But alas! As no cleric, poet nor scientist can write a proper hymn, lyric or treatise for a thing of this magnitude. Somewhere far beyond our horizons lie greater energies. Different size of rock formations, cosmic dust and oceans of elements. 

We can only see narrowly and be left in awe. Above us walks the Guardian who tends the bears that roam around the garden of stars. Somewhere else the Eagle may fall from heights to dive after its prey. The dog of Orion wanders across the sky. It barks fiercely and exposes its sharp teeth while exhaling the heat.

But of course these are just excerpts from the great book of lore and as we wait to reveal what we are able to, we are sentenced - or gifted with time to imagine.
 To focus our earthly eyes upon the starry sky and see what it has to show. And who knows, maybe a glimpse after another can offer understanding and most especially, guidance in our journeys.

Goodbye

I got a sudden surge of inspiration from talking with my friend about goodbyes and farewells and so my odd mind came up with this. Also, to make this more significant, I'll have to say that by writing this I broke through a very persistent writer's block. If you happen to read this, you know who you are and  you'll have my gratitude.
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This moment of leaving
Doesn't walk hand in hand
It has no farewell kiss
And it doesn't share a last dance

No one plays the last song
No one shares the last cigarette
No one raises a pint
Or takes a moment to remember

It has no words to echo
To break the silence
It's a tearful, heart-rending and brief
And so it leaves you with your thoughts

Alone

I'd like to dream about hugs and kisses, embraces and holding hands. Sipping hot drinks during the foliage colored autumn and baneful, biting, frosty winter. Pondering the universe and our brief, yet beautiful existence in the theater of life. I tend to think about sparkling campfire and roasting marshmallows in its playful flames, drinking wine while watching a movie and laying on the sofa together. Breathing in the scent of hair and being glad to be in that exact moment. Watching the rising or setting Sun, and it marking our being in time, painting our silhouettes on the world's canvas.

If I told you I'm a romanticist, would you believe me? Probably not. But yes, I am one of a kind. Even though the shadow of a pessimist can hide the fact and snap the roses. I treasure those warm thoughts in my imagination. Why there, you ask. Because the world we live in can be harsh, cold and merciless and it makes us its kind.
 The wheel of progression can be seen as a gear of oppression.
 A clockwork of our lack of empathy toward fellow men. And it keeps ticking...

The Crossroads Of the World

Narrow and wide streets with masses roaming on them. Millions of people like ants in a great terraria. Only the unbreakable laws of nature being the glass, the borders for us. Heralds, doctors, legists and men of faith. Churches with gravity defying towers, mosques and their countless minarets. All decorated with stone, gold and ornaments.

You make your way through the sea of citizens. The Grand Bazhaar is bursting with items of trade. As its name implies, it's the greatest marketplace in the city, but not the only one. Here in its many lanes and booths, the money and the goods change their owners. Scent of spices overwhelm your nostrils and you find something new. Rich coloured cloths are embroided in every shade you can imagine. Sometimes the loud chatter stops and people step aside, showing respect for their superior. Guardsmen are on their hourly patrol, clad in emerald and orange.

The Sun is soon setting and you decide to leave. The thought of being in shady alleys during the prime time of criminality doesn't inspire you. As you stroll down the street and admire the architecture you cannot but keep pondering the city's beauty. As you arrive at the harbor, you take a ferry across the waterway, to the other side of the town. You pay for the ride and give some extra gold for the driver. You pick up your things and head for a drink. The local beverage isn't the best one you have had, but it's not the worst - having heard that decades ago, during the war, people had to mix water with the alcohol as the wine was scarce.

You sip up your drink, pay and leave for the last place to visit tonight. Although the streets being narrow in this district of the town, you find it easier to navigate with less people walking around. After few moments you find what you were looking for: the tallest tower in the city. Your legs ache as you take a step after another, thinking that the stairs will never end.

But your struggle was worthwhile: Standing on the balcony, you see the Haliç - or Khrysókeras, as the last owners of the city did call it - gleaming with the Sun. On the horizon, you see the seven hills all in green. The Sun casts its last rays on the domes of the red coloured mosque and its domes shine with gold. Not far from it, there's a smaller version of it and the Imperial Palace.

What a magnificent place to rule, to live in, to breathe in.
This, and much much more is the Queen of Cities.

The Crossroads of the World.

Play

[Act I]

Can you see all that I am
How I protect by hiding things
As I conceal what is true and build a labyrinth of poetry
Romanticism and melancholy being the bricks and wood
Sadness and joy blooming from the garden of thoughts
Gates mold from letters after another, barriers for the cold realism

[Act II]

Colors of twilight flickering on the wall
Evergreen grass moist by dew
Setting Sun painting everything with purple and red
Making the waters glare with gold
Giving the surrounding world a chance to be beautiful
Even for a moment before it's gone

(Nightbird raises its head, croaking for the crown of sky)

After the Sun's descent
The Moon ascends above us
Resting on its throne as a nocturnal queen
Hearing the cries of woeful hearts, how their troubles are untold
Witnessing how secrecies unfold
During the night's silent hours
The wind blows through leaves of trees
Gaia singing the lullabies for those who are unrest
And in her solitude she weeps
As a mother for a child that bleeds

[Act III]

(Dawn chorus can be heard, dreamtime is now dispelled)

Morning is greeted by Moon's temporary downfall
Enemies, nay... friends sign their treaty of nychthemerona
The Sun casts its rays upon the waking world
And so dawns the new day
With the magic of nighttime fading away

(We disappear back into present)

Road.

The Sun crowned the scenery serene
Solitary soul drummed the wheel
Tires burned asphalt underneath
Power lines, lonely houses and lamp-posts

They kept leaving behind.  

The War

I've never been off to a war before
It's my first tour and I'm already missing the home
We are told to shoot a man of different view
Tearing apart what is already askew

Strangest thing to see
Is a barbed wire separating us from the no-man's-land
It's unwise to stand with head up they tell
But why is it so easy to climb over the highway bridge's rail and face the hell

Icaros had wings and desired to be free
Yet the friend of mine couldn't see
The man on the mirror, who he wanted to be
Said he needed to feel like flying
Lot didn't suspect he'd found solace by dying

Today I heard old Tim's going to have a poor burial
As for outsiders our war seemed so trivial
Wonder when we're going to hear the next call
Who gets the honor of being first to climb over the wall