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We love love love the other half of the 24 hrs.
When sun goes down it withtakes the outerworld.
The worldly templates
crawl under the blankets with the people´s voices.
Now that reality is sleeping,
what´s it all about?
We can´t see the street signs anyway.
We don´t want to go straight anymore.
We can go left, no right. No left AND right,
draw curvy lines and stirring loops.
until we reach the woods.
Here in the blurry black
we discard our coats and slip in our current bodies.
We choose
the pixie, the bear, the lion, the circus pony.
to dance and fly and whirl with the wind,
And we loose
the past, the future and our – so called – selves
to flow just with what happens next.
We are the purest we
that could ever be.

Sometime the sun peeps over the horizone,
and the first voice resounds
like a wake-up-call for ordinariness.
As soon as the next 24 hrs begin
it´s all gone.
Wiped away by the everyday eraser.
And we forget about our – so felt – selves again.

The only thing that makes us wonder
is a leaf that sticks to the sole of our shoe.

So which two halves of the 24 hrs is reality?

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