
You all held me tight
once
but the emptiness it created
invited the downfall
and made us all
worthless
so don’t step on me
or they will sting you too

You all held me tight
once
but the emptiness it created
invited the downfall
and made us all
worthless
so don’t step on me
or they will sting you too

I stand in front of you
my reflection
and I don’t agree
with what I see
and if I knew
your thoughts
I would look away
out of shame

Does it help
when you are drowning
that help is there
but no one around
maybe it adds some tragedy
to the end of your life

The power goes on
inside
nowhere
I am a passenger
blinded
feeling
anticipating
going down
up
always somewhere
forgotten
where I once stood still

I feel lonely
in a crowded room
there is enough to say
but who is there to listen
so I just sit there
as if it is my duty
to stand guard

546 Slave and idealist. – The human being after the model of Epictetus would certainly not be to the taste of those who strive after the ideal nowadays. The constant tension of his being, the unwearied glance turned inward, the reserve, caution, uncommunicativeness of his eye if it should even turn to view the outer world; not to speak of his silence or near-silence: all signs of the most resolute bravery- what could this mean to our idealists, who are above all greedy for expansion! In addition to all this, he is not fanatical, he hates the display and vainglory of our idealists: his arrogance, great though it is, has nonetheless no desire to disturb others, it admits a certain mild intimacy and wants to spoil no one’s good humour- it can, indeed, even smile! There is very much of the humanity of antiquity in this ideal! The fairest thing about it is, however, that it lacks all fear of God, that it believes strictly in reason, that it is no penitential preacher. Epictetus was a slave: his ideal human being is without class and possible in every class, but is to be sought above all in the depths of the masses as the silent, self-sufficient man within a universal enslavement who defends himself against the outside world and lives in a constant state of supreme bravery. He differs from the Christian, above all in that the Christian lives in hope, in the promise of’inexpressible glories’, in that he accepts gifts and expects and receives the best he knows at the hands ofdivine love and grace and not at his own hands: while Epictetus does not hope and does not accept the best he knows as a gift- he possesses it, he holds it bravely in his own hand, he defends it against the whole world if the world wants to rob him of it. Christianity was made for a different species of antique slave, for those weak in will and mind, that is to say for the great mass of slaves.

For some it is too heavy
to move
others don’t even stumble
over it
it is the same thing
in shape and form
in weight
but also not

It came from somewhere
just arrived
too small for what it is
too much to be nothing
reflecting for a while
it is not knowing
it disappears

There is a point
even if it is just for a second
that you pause
before you open up
not that you can go back
but just for the pause

There are often two
of everything
to choose from
I am my mood
who chooses
who are you

I can show you my inside
but only the parts
that enjoy
the sunshine
the rest I
don’t even know

My roots
are underwater

Only when I look
beside me
I realize that I am going
too fast

There is something about this door
that is not inviting
I wish that were the case
for all the doors
I didn’t open

We all sit at the table
it feeds us
it feels us
it gives us
it’s where we decide
the words we use
to say
nothing

I check every now
and then
if there are any remains
hanging
on my thorns
just
to prepare