Ever changing skies
like the dreams they can
show you what you will
if you stare
long enough
Day 2635, stare.
Daily picture, PoetryPoetry
Day 2634, asleep.
Daily picture, Poetry
In all the years I lived with her
she never woke up
I guess I didn't ether
Day 2633, I once.
Daily picture, Poetry
I once lifted you up
while I was waiting to be alone
Day 2632, high enough.
Daily picture, Poetry
The sun doesn't set
when you are high enough
Day 2631, I see.
Daily picture, Poetry
In the distance sea
I live
Day 2630, different.
Daily picture, Poetry
I've seen these mountains a thousand times
from the window where I stand
and only the clouds
change them
Day 2629, what.
Daily picture, Poetry
What are the mountains waiting for?
Day 2628, move.
Daily picture, Poetry
A forest moves
while the spirit is not
Day 2627, I do remember.
Daily picture, Poetry
I drove through the town
one I knew from long ago
and I still do know
but from a distance
Day 2626, suddenly.
Daily picture, PoetryAnd suddenly
I like suddenly
Day 2625, what more.
Daily picture, Poetry
Mountains, a road, and a public toilet
what more do you want
Day 2624, moving.
Daily picture, PoetryMoving is exciting
even if you don't know you are
Day 2623, the other side.
Daily picture, Poetry
On one side I can lean against the earth
on the other against you
the sea
ebb and flow
the salt
Day 2622, moving.
Daily picture, Poetry
I move life like tetris blocks
making it fit
while it's coming down
and going up
Day 2621, change of speed.
Daily picture, PoetryIt's hard to see
the speed
that changes us
Day 2618, synchronizing in the past.
Daily picture, PoetryFriedrich Nietzsche
Selected letters
To
Rohde.
Genoa, March 24, 1881.
Thus the sands of life run out and the best of friends hear and see nothing of each other! Aye, the trick is no easy one-to live and .Yet not to be discontented. How often do I not feel as if I should like to beg a loan from my robust, flourishing and brave old friend Rohde, when I am in sore need of a “transfusion” of strength, not of lamb’s but of lion’s blood. But there he dwells away in Tubingen, immersed in books and married life, and in every respect i accessible to me. Ah, dear friend, to live for ever on my own fat seems to be my lot, or, as every one knows who has tried it, to drink my own blood! Life then becomes a matter of not losing one’s thirst for oneself and also of not drinking oneself dry.
Nochrisis 