Rita Summers

riet@hotmail.com

Sweet Dreams 1

Sweet dreams.  Let me dive back
Into your candy coloured pictures.
Your floating meaninglessness prepares me for a new day.
Tomorrow I will search for answers again
To the meaning of life,
And why they burned the books.
And why I did not stop them.

I will search for the point of being, in distress
I want to climb the mountain
Moved by faith ... to absorb energy ...
And gain answers ...
To do the things I cannot do by myself.
I want to find the God who helps the ones
Who help themselves.

Will I recognise HIM?

Stop suppressing your passion to explore ...
The universe and yourself.
Come with me
Now
I will be so ... alone ... on the top of the mountain.

Has the moon spoken to me?
I did not understand it through the sound of infinity ...
Perhaps it was the echo of voices calling me back?

Or the melody of eternity?

© Ella Janssen

Sweet Dreams 2

Above the clouds I understood that it was
A matter of acceptance, a gift.
Everything, the ocean, the river, love.

The silhouette of a tree made me understand
Everything is there, was there, will be there
If we accept it, grasp it, hold it
Indefinitely.

I did not have to climb the mountain
But faith is so fragile in these days like glass
And space is needed to collect wisdom.

The layer of your dreams is a spider-web.
A sticky hammock in which you wait
For answers you already know.

© Ella Janssen

If love is nourishment
I have enough to feed this world.
If food for thought is medicine
I have enough to heal the human race.
Regrettably the taste has changed
Together with the wish for healing.
Today we stuff ourselves
With anything that quickly gratifies.
Today we need no healing
Just drugs to make us numb.
Adrenalin, money or religion,
Sex, work-outs,
Anything to make us tough.
It doesn't matter what we swallow
As long as we get it now
And get enough,
While our tolerance grows quickly higher
With all the input
Added day by day.
We have lost sight
Of things that really matter
And all together blind
We lost our way.

© Ella Janssen

The South Pacific moon
is always a lantern

It is one that rises
with the regularity of flying fish
to show its mutant crescent
or its smile

Today after a night of silver
we celebrate spirits together
at the house by the sea

You might be my friend
you might be my brother
you might like to share the moon
or its shine

Sea spumes extinguish the lantern
in the capsule of time.

© Ella Janssen


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