Breadcrumbs from the sun




A parachutist on a planet

with barely any gravity

I watch the flame

free-fall slow into you

collasping into the billows

of its own dress

a shipwreck settling

into the silt of your heart

there it flickers

gifting shadows of starlings

to walls that have

never known sky




I plant candles for you

single petal flowers

that sink slow as the tide

slow as the vanishing

of a snow man

till only the black coals

of the eyes remain

staring at the sun

rising as slow

as the candles

lowering their flags




Is that all we’re doing

cupping a candle

against the dark

carrying it across

the storm swept plain

trying to prevent

wind and whispers

tugging free

its remaining wing




At the heart of the glacier

carved out a womb for itself

ear flitting to each wall

it hears the sun




In the morning

prayer scribbled

all over the ceiling


clouds of ghosts

splatter the table

the light has come



Candles like fields have always been a big poetic motif for me. They are already imbued with a lot of imagery and meaning. Something about their many states makes them very versatile poetically and ironically also makes me think of water; especially the teardrop shape a single flame can take on.

By nature they are very hopeful, this tiny flicker of light in all the surrounding, crushing dark. Something so very delicate and fragile can be the creator of uncontrollable fires. From great gentleness passions can be born.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: