The night streets were dark
where I looked down 
before crossing the empty street
and saw nature reflected 
left undisturbed 

One advantage of getting older is that you (can) realize that age doesn’t make you smarter. I have been carrying many of my self-proclaimed best ideas with me for 30 years now, and I have fine-tuned them a little here and there, and maybe see them clearer in a wider context, but they are basically the same ideas.

I am older now, but I have learned over the years that I know very little about many things and a little more about a few things. This knowledge that we don’t get smarter or have better ideas when we get older is something I also use when I look at people that I have admired, like Richard Dawkins, for instance. When I read his books and learned about what was written in them, I was still young, naive, and impressed. Naivety is something that slowly erodes, and though I am still impressed by most of his work, I am also disappointed. Over the years, I have learned that these writers are just like you and me, and the internet gave me the tools to easily find out what lives they live behind the façade I erected in front of them. They can have their opinions, of course, but it’s just a shame that with all the effort they put into their professional work, they say utter nonsense while the answers are easily accessible from their phones. 

But now I know about his political views, which makes me sad. I long for the days that I  could naively believe that a scholar who has produced such enlightened work could never simultaneously produce so much nonsense when they speak about things they know little about. It’s the Dunning-Kruger effect in full force. It’s what they say: never meet your idols, just keep reading their good books.

It’s just disappointment, and I fear I will unknowingly do the same…and that’s my first lie, it’s not fear, I know it.

It's my dreams that make me feel
small 
and I don’t talk about the ones that I wake up from 
but the ones that feel real
while I am awake

and what’s my part 
when I dream
do I want them

I just know
that sometimes
they tower over me

The alarm bell is often clearly visible
I wonder why
it is important to know where the sound comes from
precisely 

The damage is done from the inside
with a rhythm 
one I can only feel resonating

a different note
every time

with no melody 
to listen to
for you
outside 

I don’t dare to get close to the window
it’s for what I don’t see inside 
what makes me afraid 

I keep staring 
but now just at the window
a substitute
fascinating on its own 
and I imagine 
representing you
inside

Do I even have to come closer?