Eclipse: Blossoming Vestige

von Aleksandra Chodara gelesen am 06.02.2024

…My body dismantles itself.
The flesh, the bone, the mind, the…the bearer? That is not right. I’m slowly starting to forget it. 

…I am dreaming of dropping my dreams.
I prepared myself for this single frame of slashing.
I see the burning of the film reel.
I see the burning… I see the wings of butterflies single-handedly crafted by my own hands.
How much value do my words possess, if they can be simply recreated and repeated by you?
If they… If they… When they are never everlasting, I have transcended, can’t you see?
The wind of clarity took them away, they erased my cords.
Life just opens and folds, it can be repeated by many.
Only lived by few.
Whose memories do you possess?
If the moon is young and the same?
If your sanity washes the insane?
Who do you call „I“ and „you“?
If I am the „I“, but you refuse to be a „you“? 

…I remember dreaming.
I remember a dreaming me who was always chased, even killed, by the dreams I wanted to desire in every darkness. My desire to-
My ears ran away. The heart remained on the frontier.
I heard nothing but the silence of the walls. You can hear them too, just listen closely.
They know more than a scribe can record. 

…Why have you followed me?
You are painted in colours that shouldn’t exist.
You… I see you vanishing before my eyes.
Like a snowflake melting while kissing my sun-blessed hands.
I was never kissed by you.
You may lament, but I never needed it.
I needed a way to comprehend myself.
So don’t wish for a falling star.
Keep the strings attached, you understand it’s worth fighting for. 

If there is anyone out there somewhere, please grant me my final wish, for as long as you allow me… If there is a possibility, a reality, in which you can fulfil it:

…Don’t let me be buried in time. This is not the end. Time will separate us for a great while, but nothing will vanish. I am only going through a change of state. I am sure that our paths will cross. Hold onto these memories. Hold on to these ideas that only I and the versions of myself ought to know and know. But you, spectator, have the power to accumulate all this. My dreams, my ambitions, my memories… Take my works, refine them with your talent and birth their arrival into this world. I promise you, I promise me, that you can do it. I know you can. Just believe me as you have always done it before.

Use the remains of one of my selves as your muse. With each fragment, with each line that originally belonged to me, this alone will grant me a rebirth.




The eyes are bleeding because of the overload of it all.
The brownish marble was decorated with golden branches.
The roots of post-era philosophers teach us to unravel a colossal deicide.
I’ll fantasise about your winter knights dream,
I’ll order the silence to play the aria your heart sang.
In a co-existing reality, a fiction was found that we had wished for.
Hymning the ironies composed by remnant.
Humanity digs canyons for the flowerbeds,
Sapphires grow to revere:
The death of a silver songbird.