In balance with this life this death

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public man, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.


An Irish Airman Foresees His Death
W. B. Yeats – 1865-1939

Ich warte auf den ersten Blitz

Hoch wuchs ich über Mensch und Tier;
Und sprech ich – niemand spricht mit mir.

Zu einsam wuchs ich und zu hoch –
Ich warte: worauf wart′ ich doch?

Zu nah ist mir der Wolken Sitz, –
Ich warte auf den ersten Blitz.


I’ve also cursed my gift

“There was a time that I cursed the curse that lay upon my veins.

Wild spirit chained
Flaming fire quenched over and over
’til it can consume no more
’til it can arise no more
with passions that blaze within my soul…

I’ve cursed my curse
and then I realized –

I’ve also cursed my gift.”

Thank you Kitten from the moon for the inspiration and art.

Original track by Scott Gratton. Please visit the artist @FMA

Thank You

Thank you
that you where a part of my life
growing up with me
beside me

seeing you
playing with the sun
ray of lights
dancing in the blue sky
whispers with the wind

the first signs of spring
you where always there
autumn felt special

you where the guardian of my galaxy
against the outside world

and now

I have touched you for the last time
you’re gone
thank you for being a part of my life
thank you for being




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Be near me

Be near me when my light is low,
When the blood creeps, and the nerves prick
And tingle; and the heart is sick,
And all the wheels of Being slow.

Be near me when the sensuous frame
Is rack’d with pangs that conquer trust;
And Time, a maniac scattering dust,
And Life, a Fury slinging flame.

Be near me when my faith is dry,
And men the flies of latter spring,
That lay their eggs, and sting and sing
And weave their petty cells and die.

Be near me when I fade away,
To point the term of human strife,
And on the low dark verge of life
The twilight of eternal day.