Stefan Stjernberg.com

There will come others
in my deepest part
That awaits me
as if at home
Watching what I am
without end
looking at faces
Looking behind
those that wears them
Without turning
from my inside climate
when it meets the ground

I combine my poses
as a dream
like I am possessed
and displaced
in acts that alter forms
on your face
The closer I come to you

I does not matter to life
as it sings in its own words
Each day
I am its being, a servant
Of place trying
to breathe within my mind
I just fall into its arms
with tears that are not mine
clothed in mirrors
of those that wear them
Inside the movements of my heart

Like one in danger
i am cautious
To what?
The wind does not
keep her place
We inhale a different dawn
An instant’s width
of skin
Where an hour enters
through the same mirror
of lightness
as any another day

Days of temporal tides
with thousand coloured eyes
Old and weary
The unregulated sun
hears the Goat-foot
A Faun,
All before me
in my little room
Gathering power and purpose
when the day is done

Those cold hands
are manufactured
Of some departed us
From where
the unwisdom calls
the crowning
from below
From where the sun comes up
to speak to you
without shame

The drilling
into my entire me
Into the world
that wasn’t
In an aura of ice
with myself
As i am
the other,
obsolete life
I have to sink
to undo it
Where no one lives

I am a being
of changeful life
I wave at the sky
and bend the air
My breath this way
breaks out of my body
Off into this fabric
of burning trash
Messing up my clothes
and plunge me
into each day

Walls of my ruin
dissolves,
Into one light
alive in our blood
With great silhouettes
of a dark world
A bitter mask
full of apparitions
of my being there
You just listen
and you know
You feed the world out there

We enter this loneliness
for a crowd
In an outgrown anguish
From the branches
of a night
As all ancient hearts
passing,
through my windows burned
in its original darkness
With tears,
of mangled silver

This wild speed
i make
In the one drop
of nothingness
That passes by
this garden that lives
on its invisible wheels
consuming its own fruit
across the sky
I am,
the twilight i want
My nocturnal sugar
In the light of hidden flowers
enfolding my destiny
In every moment
as i uncloud my earthly duties

From all the pasts
in a suit of rays, a tree
Looking
in a certain way
known as the Mind
Old and wordless
low in the sky
Which faints away
to the edge
Of what remains
in the emptiness
and the geography
of our senses

Over my very own
circular else
She had my portrait
like an angry guest
of my tongue
As a passenger
She appear
in my body
As if it were normal
Throwing myths
of a dark twig
over my childhood
To my spaces of air
and darkness
As it salvage its source
And its breathings

For a moment I must dream
to the sound of my own
To the seeing passing through
that grains of laughter
Dressing us up like puppets
of sameness
We are volunteers
to the grinding stone
To a golden thread
Thin as a pencil stick
in the world laid bare
With just the right gesture
done this way
the impulse that lives here
Comes,
with the breath of the world
To see if we add up
to the pounding of the four corners

There is something settled
in the depths
Like a holy city
With objects
in your own reflection
There is an odor
of confused unities
encircling me
Its identical
of being a man
with clouds
that life fills
In eternal vessels
Now devoured
by abstract uncertainty
of silence
When it sees me coming

Observe the wise accidents
how much they do
beneath my seals
Of my life and soul
and my joys unnumbered
How far since I were born?
not the echoing
The mineral
and the solar bird
Which shakes the silence
of space
Of everything that exists
When i learn to harvest
myself from my shoulders

Summer breathes
a journey
as good as salt
to the gold center
we wait and watch
at the arms edge
as the earth
empties out
Life
in its own skin
Out of the midnight
we polish up the stars
and dance together

The first salt
for the lost
From off our faces
of that dead Time
Flying out
Out of the question
of No-man’s-land
Into the sun by the boat
with error or sin
you must live it alone
Till the cycle is run

In a breath’s space
I have found
leaves of gold
To the sound of rain
at the center
Whether we think good
Or evil
of the great clock
Words are arrows
to shoot the stars
of blind emotions
with a candle

From above
it comes pouring in
The edge
of straight lines
into thunder
Cluttered with
the body
and forgot desires
I am a point of beyond
On us both
And far more here with you
as i answer them

Where every sin flowers
The hour has come
from which one can see
human suffering
dissolve into one
This is the sanctuary
A kind of hell we breathe in
Where other souls may drift away
Looking for a scapegoat

The weighty world
The world as it can be
I can feel the tune
The signs to tell the way
All i have forgotten
just wait and watch
There is no safe place
Not here
You invade my calm,
It is up to my waist
Can’t you see I’m dreaming

The days flows on
over a wild solitude
And wraps the world
in a nameless way
Of silly pride
Bursting,
from an old sky
at the wheel
of the half moon
With its fifth hand
inside me
In contemplation

Dressed in absence
the voice of the wind
Inside my own matter
As in the sum of a dream
crossing over my madness
to its nest in the heart
I have been cut in two
as i rearrange my faces
From one place to another
wheeling over myself
Sleeping,
in a thousand tiny reservations

Breathing
in this crowd
Our bodies lose
their loneliness
And waits
Perhaps it waits
on a frozen tear

A certain sense of order
outside of myself
An accident of hope
cast up from my childhood
If i turn away
I give you back your heart
with a new skin around it

Behind the time
were worlds are created
One by one
Like the dust at our feet
I breathe you into my dream
mixing yours
Inside this
And i have made it mine

From the day’s dim edge
the infinite
Will test you
Like in a glow and radiance
from the unseen
Out of reach
she’s standing close beside me
When it grows too strong
Our masque will disappear

Blow into my shadow
the eleatic skies
Into night and day
and the deeds I have done
Just let it all go
In the end
it is more than me
in that diary of my mind

Into the realm
of evolving human souls
A thing as love itself
Of madness
Grown from a neglected mind
Set on fire
from temptation
and suffer in this world
Following its own wild will
All dangers dared
I hold the golden vessel
of my heart
in my hand

The voice of Nature
Reach down
wide open to the light
Of Reason
In a changing sea of colour
diversion and content of mind
Whatever your answer

It is always there
That which we do not possess
like a wicked and evil eye
On the brains of men
With great faith
no one can rate
We cannot harvest a heart
never made on this earth
and turn away from evil

A simple truth
begin to awaken
It is you, mimicking
A cold familiar wind
In the half light
of a vaudeville
It completes the picture
And catch a glimpse of me

On this moral sea
I have a temple by the sun
Where the days promises
Blows in
to a deep rumbling
Under the domed walls
Moved by the clock
of good and evil
There is a hunting in heaven
with the waves of my desire

I follow you
between your reply
and my senses
When we walk
outside these bodies
At the wheel
Moving over you
At all times
This is the dance
of life
In the middle of my mind

Mad objects
strangely strayed above
On a tiger tooth with stars
Where lustful venus lay
Drumming up a fever
To blame the clouded mind
With my dark horizons
back into the sun
as i step forward
Towards my place in time

A sense of absence
when my eyes are shut
I walk
in mute geometry
Of fixed ideals
and something broken
In the same way
empty gestures unbalance the air
I have been overlooking them
Because their disguise is too bright

A visionary force
along all those bright asterisks
Initiated by the rising sun
A looping faith
from afar
Pointing toward the fabric
of some feathered circus scene
When night comes black
It is the only place to go to

From the thorny uncertainty
of the masses
To the sky
Through a conscious mind
with salt and sweetness
I live suddenly
and other times i follow
I am here
where everything seems to be set
Each day
In the four corners of the wind