Broken mirror

A broken mirror in my hand are you
Reflection in time and space
Memory pale moments
On maze-roads and discovery paths
In the deepest fairy-forests of existence

Neither then nor now can trace
The secret joy
In the golden cathedrals of longing
And the hidden pain
In the catacombs of silence

Only the reflection in a broken mirror
Can reveal the depth of absence
Or the greatness of presence
In that which was and is
And wonders beyond

Galaxies in the ocean of memories
Encounter of souls and then
The echo of a reflection
An image of myself
A broken mirror in my hand

Come tell me again what you see
Reflect my soul in morning-haze
Spread light on shade-borne bark
In a spectrum of beauty
Oh, broken mirror in my hand.

GOOD TO KNOW

It is good to know
that there is someone
who carries my story
between his covers.
That someone exists
who reads me
in his own story.

It is good that there is
a tale to tell
for someone,
who keeps it
as a treasure
and preserves it
with care.

It is good that
someone exists,
who takes place
in my novel,
turn the pages
and believes in
a Happy End
It is good,
so good to know.

Words

LILIES

Let the Light paint forgotten words
upon your petals
Dress your memories
with tinges of burgundies
Let budding lilies
adorn your dreams
And weave your songs
with fragrant Hope

Preserve this moment
in a spectrum of light
Banish the darkness
with irrepressible joy
Release the reckless dance
of the colours
Before the Sun sets over
the lilies in your vase

JOLLY-SUNS AND BITTER-JAWS

Jolly-suns sparkling
      on windows
            heavy with sleep
Laugh-pearls dancing
      along the facings
            in morning-haze
Pine-tree-fingers tickling
      the moon under his chin
            at waving to
                  the play-birds

Still waiting newly polished
      flash-shoes at
            closed doors
Still resting well-tied
      brag-ties around
            sweaty necks
Still watching the market
      with empty eyes and
            greedy bitter-jaws

But who can stop
   yesterday's fairies
       from dancing with
           today's angles
Who can prevent
      the dreamer's sing-balloon
          from rising over
            the roofs
Who can withhold the poet
      from having breakfast with
            whoever she wishes

All while jolly-suns are sparkling
and laugh-pearls dancing
while grey-morning still is shifting in gold

Before the liberating playbirdsong
has drowned in the imminent
alarm reports of tomorrow

or imperceptible swallowed by
the market's prey-greedy
wide open bitter-jaws

THE LEAF'S SPEECH TO THE WIND

Maria Kimdal

CHANTILLY

Scent of joy and appeased yearning
Scent of rain and moisture, mist and sun
Scent of laugh and tenderness
Scent of mysticism and of moments
that have broken the frames of time and
flow ahead on invisible highways

Scent of the dance of the senses at sunrise
Scent of coriander, beans and rice
Scent of glowing lava in the night
Scent of eternity in your eyes and
along windling roads
between your rich coasts

Scent of glances of kinship behind the windscreen
Scent of conversations, silence and songs
Scent of incense and untouched heaven
Scent of the Names beyond
time and space and
images beyond the dreams

Scent of galloping hearts at the horizon
Scent of devotion and innocence
Scent of meeting, parting and missing
Scent of the Present that was left behind
between starry covers of the fairytale and
in the depth of my heart