Where should I be, but here
in my world of silence
of warm thoughts and good wine
in a night wrapped in south wind, fog and low clouds,
short and long sighs,
balancing my thoughts
in the game of consciousness and the subconscious,
in my separation
of all of the current
of everything important.
Where should I be, but there
where the world doesn't bother me
where you can listen to the classics
where the nerves are stretched as they should be,
where there is no tension, ringing, yelling
...here I sort of settled down
and decided to write about forgotten things
away from the modern essentials,
cities, streams, systems.
Where should I be, but here
where I baptized this religion myself
erected this church on my own backs;
the altar of my institution is called freedom,
where the Eucharist is held under the open sky
without rituals, symbols, liturgies and preaching,
in this ghost-like room all chains are released
and there are no limits, rules, laws, earthly orders.
Where should I be but here
in my middle age
where I still don’t feel limitation,
everything is like it was in the young days
when I got taken away by open skies and seas,
when I let the wind to blow me away,
let the waves carry me on long voyages,
completely left to haphazardness
on the raft of freedom, along the agitated challenging waters.
Where should I be, but here
in an institution with no windows, no doors
no inscriptions, activities and seals,
in a building with no roof, no floors and departments,
in an institution without a specific function
where freedom is the basis of my actions
and poetry the result of such thinking.
The clear sky is the roof of my temple
rikpoems.com