Stupas, with the north face of Mount Kailash

« Aller au Kailash est un pèlerinage définitif, ultime, le pèlerinage suprême, la paramâ yâtrâ. On n’atteint pas le Kailash, on n’en gravit pas le pic : on en fait le tour, on y accomplit le parikrama, on fait la pradakshinâ (circum-ambulation). « Ultime » signifie que c’est un pèlerinage sans retour. Si jamais on en revient, c’est par pure grâce : on est un être nouveau. »

Raimon Panikkar et Milena Carrara, Pèlerinage au Kailash – Retour à la source, Cerf, 2011

Fallen Angels

There are
Some heavy souls
That entangle themselves
With confusion
And pain
Into their too broad wings

Spreading
Inconsolable 
Loneliness
In the turbulence
Of the world

Souls
Torn 
Into their own
Outlines

Souls 
Flaying 
Other souls

Holding them in their chains
Of ambiguous tyranny
Between pleasure and pain
Until an uncertain salute

Souls
Monstrously visionary
Forged by the despair 
Of their pains
Clever killers
Shining with a thousand poisons

Injecting
Their invincible trick
Their deceptive
Filter of love 
Numbing the most beautiful dreams
Reducing
The most splendid battles 
To nothing

Consonance

You say my name
And I am
Born again

Unearthed
From a million years
Of darkness
Arised
From a thousand nights
Of Anonymity

Morning whispers

Motionless
Cows
Floating 
In a translational movement
Against
The grey background
Of the sky

Broken windows

Abandoned hours

The dance
Of the green
Distorted
Cabbages

The flatness
And the fresh humid smell
Of the underbrush

Crows 
Flying low
In haunting spots

Your voice
In the murmur
Of the waterfalls

The strength
Drawn
From a thousand
Awakenings

(Cascades de Gimel - Avril 2015)

The Sehnsucht poems (3) - The Cyclop's Dream

Jasmin morning
Embroidered
With the light
And the depth
Of an absence

A Silent
Lonely
Walk
Filled
With the sacred
Beauty
Of your smile

Breathing
The telepathic colours
Of our dreams
The warm music
Of their incomplete
Symphony

A lack
A paralysis
An hibernation
A distortion
A hook in the heart
A fish
On the bank

Senses veiled
Falsified
Amputated
For a while

The one vision
Unshared

The lightness
Of the bees
Remaining
On my lips
The brightness
Of the sun
Absorbed
By the void
Of my single sight

Filled
With the immense
Warm knowledge
Of what your eyes
Would say

The Sehnsucht poems (2) - Silence

I want to write a poem
Which is a silence 
From the beginning
To the end
Not even a murmur
Or a sigh
But a perfect 
Crystal silence
Full of truth
And hope
And deep despair 
Far from the poisoning 
Blinding words

A silence
That would not be
A betrayal
To the fullness
Of our hearts
A silence deprived of emptiness 
Resonating 
With the haunting cherished dreams
Of our connected souls

A  language
Beyond words
Filled
With the thousand 
weaving echos
of our breathless hearts
Containing the implosions
The thousand lightnings
The tremblings
The fears
Of the deepest
Despair

Appalled
Assailed 
Fighting
In a cruel 
merciless 
Arena
To face 
The killing 
Revealing
Truth
To restore the darkest abysses
To their full meaning
Deprived of their destructive lies

Where true life lays

Sacred silence
Extirpated
Out of the bottom of forlorn depths

By breach
Bringing back the Almighty
Horror
Of the simple truth
The one that flows along the cheeks 
That bruises grazed lips
Compromises the eyes
Inflating the heart
With an Heavenly dizziness
Of hope

Release the wild animals held in cage
Let the furies and the foam
Explode into magnificence
And the crazy passion for life 
And for freedom
And the races
In the tempest
On the devastated shores

Let me
Hold your hands
In an endless waltz
Of love
Intoxicated with 
The light and the twirling landscapes
Holding us in their song 
A rebirth
Of colours and senses
Upon our lips

A plentiful warmth
Unfolding gracefully
Out of the most
Suitable 
Perfect 
Silence

The Sehnsucht poems (1)

Timeless Nights
Paralyzed
In a white winter silence
A waiting
Mired
Into the void
Of your absence
Into dreams 
Consuming themselves 
Endlessly
Endlessly reborn 
From themselves
Almighty Phoenix 
With golden wings

Dreams
Which do not stop
Remaining dreams
Coiled
In their familiar homeland
Until the limit of their pain
Until the pain of their limit
Of their certainties
Of their doubts
Wrapped up
With fears
And desires
Sharp and bright steel blade
Into the wrinkled flesh
A dazzled heart throbbing
Into recognition

Drinking
The breath of your breath
Dreaming of
The miracle
Of your kiss
Bringing my lips
Out of the darkness

My words
Being your words
Your eyes
Being my eyes
Unearthed
From the living-dead
And the blind

What I already knew
What I already felt
Magically 
Completed and confirmed
By the touch of your soul
Upon mine
Grown up
Embellished

The murmur of your voice
Slowly bursting out
Into the blossoming beauties
Of this world
A revelation
Of what was just a hint
Til there

Not a single color
Not a sound
Not a smell
An image
Or a shape
Ever the same again
Each one reborn 
Within itself
Beholding
A new meaning
Enveloped
By the sacredness
Of our song

A raindrop of love
On each fingertip
My skin
Without your skin
A deserted canvas
Waiting for
The symphony of your lips
To dance upon it

Sliding on velvet wings

Which country is it?
Which reality?
Into what illusion 
Does it absorb us?
The thickness
Of whirling spirals

Vertiginous

At the same time
Interconnected
And exploding
Into a luminous dance 

The consistency
Of their moving matter
Like an open door
On a new vision
Sacred
Fuzzy
Mysterious

At a news point 
Unquestionable
Very specific
In its outlines
In its forms
In its colors
And noises

This timeless moment
In the slight
Uncontrollable shift
Of a voluntary abandonment
Which both numbs and rises

The body
Almost silent
Woolly
Out of which seems to spring
Crystal shards
Perfectly distinct 
And harmonious
Having their own consistency
sometimes slipping and escaping
To term memory
To be lost in the abyss
Fathomless
Other times
Gushing
And remaining
Perfectly set
In the smooth clarity 
Of a disjointed time
Just before being caught
In the hungry mouth
Of sleep 

I slip
On your voice
A light
Velvet ribbon
Full of musicality
Rocked by the flowering waves 
Of your words
Frequencies of softness
Mingling modulations 
And colorful visions
Of wild tigers
And wolves
And Bears 
Proudly Erecting on their feet

I drink
Your words
Gently
Greedily
While letting go

I drink them
Slowly 
Lovingly
Together wrapped
Within the silky sheets
Of a night
That belongs to us

Douanier Rousseau - dream

Symbiosis

There was this cat in the neighbourhood. This wild black cat that would never let himself be approached or caressed. You could never get close to  him. Not at less than two meters. Or he would run away. This is what happened all the time.
You were in front of him, crouched down, trying to move as little as possible, not to frighten him. It asked a lot of concentration and patience because it could last for a long time. 
But each time, there was the fatal move or the too close distance than would make him clear off.
Then one day, as the sun was shining in front of the house, the old white stones reflecting the warmth of a quiet summer afternoon, I crouched down slowly on the terrace ground to enjoy this perfect moment. 
I turned my face toward the sun, eyes half-closed and like in a half-sleep, I heard its purring close to me. I felt its fur, thick and silky, under my hand, 
I can't say how long this moment lasted but all I know is that, from the moment I went out of my reverie and realized I was caressing him, he immediately ran away. 
Years after, I often think of this magical moment and of how the best moments in life are often the unespected ones, not deliberate and lived in the innocence and the spontaneity of the instant. 
He had let himself been caressed by me, in this special moment of almost unconsciousness, when I was not trying to 'steal' something from him. This was not a confrontation anymore but a symbiosis. 
A wild invisible cat under the touch of a dreamy girl.

Breathing

Breathing
Into Each Other's 
Breath
Lips
Lingering
dragging on
Intermingling
Tasting
And complementing
Each other
In recognition

Through the warm breath
The peaceful 
Perfect rythm
The spicy whisper
The softness of your hands
Like summer sun 
Poured on the skin

The fever
The bite
The impatience

My consonance
My love
My desire
And my fears
Your arms
Enveloping me
In golden and velvet
Palaces

The warm caress
Of moments 
Tasted
As rare fruits
A sacred dizziness
A world 
Of two textures