Junge Poesie

Descending deep into the ocean’s heart,  
Where sunlight fades and shadows start,  
The surface world becomes a dream,  
Far above this silent stream.  

With every breath, the world grows still,  
A liquid hush, a gentle chill,  
Down, down, to where the light can't go,  
Into the depths where secrets flow.  

Alone, in this cathedral vast,  
Where time is lost and hours pass,  
A realm of calm, where silence speaks,  
In murmurs soft, where daylight leaks.  

No color here, just shades of night,  
The quiet void, a peaceful flight,  
Through velvet dark, where thoughts unwind,  
And leave the weight of life behind.  

Here, the ocean holds you close,  
A tender grip, a soft repose,  
In solitude, you find your place,  
Embraced by the deep's endless grace.  

And in this stillness, you become  
A part of all, yet only one,  
A drifting soul, so far below,  
Where light no longer dares to go.  

At one hundred fifty meters deep, you float,  
Suspended in the ocean's throat,  
Where even dreams dare not descend,  
And darkness feels like an old friend.  

Your torch beams out, a silver thread,  
Piercing through the water's bed,  
But still the dark surrounds, so vast,  
A living night that seems to last.  

Beneath, a deeper chasm calls,  
A world untouched, where silence falls,  
You send your light, but it retreats,  
The dark resists, your strength it meets.  

Then, through the black, a shadow glides,  
A presence near, but it just hides,  
You cannot see its shape or face,  
Just feel the calmness of its grace.  

No fear disturbs your tranquil breath,  
This shadowed form does not mean death,  
It’s just another wanderer,  
In this abyss, where secrets blur.  

You drift in peace, both close and far,  
Lit by the faintness of your star,  
And though you’ll never truly know,  
The shadowed thing that passed below,  

Here, at the ocean’s quiet keep,  
You find a peace so pure, so deep,  
For in this depth, where light can’t stay,  
You’ve learned to trust the dark’s embrace. 

Sometimes
Late at night
Our memories
Sneak out
Of my eyes

And roll down 
My cheek.

I used to love flowers
even when I did not know what that word meant
I dreamt of a big garden full of them
so that they would start blooming every spring
and bring joy right alongside that
I used to love flowers, every color and variety
I dreamt of looking down from a tower and just staring at them
the beauty of nature
I used to love the buzzing of bees
and the rustling of the leaves as the evening began
I wanted to stay outside forever, just looking at the stars, the beauty of being and everything in between
I used to love flowers and their unique scents
I wandered through our garden and hoped to find meaning in the little things
the way the grass felt below my bare feet, so soft 
and the way the trees spoke to me ever so quietly
I used to admire how the world did not care for anyone or anything

Right now I feel as though the world should end.
It has no right to move on.
I made paper flowers for my room because I can’t keep real ones alive 
and even if they can never bloom they can also never die.
I need the little things even if I cannot seem to see them right now 
and I know this feeling will end, I just don’t know how…
I hate how I don’t feel joy seeing the bees
and I really hate the sound of the leaves right now.
I hate knowing how love feels like and not being able to love the flowers.
I made some of paper so that they would never die, 
but maybe that was what made them special.
And maybe I loved the flowers because I wanted to feel special in bringing them back to life.
I used to love flowers, I think I still do
and even if I can’t see it right now, I know eventually I will find a way to see it the way I used to.