Bridge Into The Void

You are song

Bound to my heart

Every aching night

Your voice of a gong

Connects our paths

Your chest expands

As I breathe along

Shivering trance

Between lips and soul

Anticipating pleasure

Yet I am getting more

So wholly I long

To give myself to dance

With you in my flesh

Lifting my feet off 

The ground, no rush

In oneness we take off


Let’s not meet

Let’s dream instead

A dream floats above

Fleeting passion

Brimming with

Finite beginning

Freed only by vision

Of eternal love  


Inspired by: “Shri Ha ru ka aham”

This Tibetan tantric mantra means I am the holy cause and void, the original letter and timeless soul nowhere and everywhere.

Miguel Rothschild at Fondation Carmignac

The universe is filled with void

The void is God. The ‘divine’ is all including nothingness. We humans created words to explain everything we can perceive. Yet, we still do not know everything, neither can we perceive all that exists, just peak through the microscope and the telescope, therefore there is still space, a gap, an empty possibility that can become filled with something tangible, at least in our minds. I assume that our souls do not need answers, because they are beyond them, they transcend time/space. Imagination feeds the curiosity for having it, at least potentially knowing. Hence art and the stories in literature fill that void. Like Nietzsche injected science into the discourse of God over a century ago, the contemporary German writer Mokka Müller believes that “the arts became the new religion” in her illuminating book The Last Authority.

Mediterranean nigh sky glimpses into the void The universe is filled with void

The invisible has the power to give us love that we need. If we open our hearts, minds and souls we can receive that nurturing oneness, the union of our physical, mental and spiritual existence. Aren’t you more than your flesh, your thoughts, feelings, dreams and musings?

By more I do not mean above, hierarchically superior, yet equal to all that we know and are yet to get to know or will just never know.

Progress can be wonder-full in the word’s literary sense (that’s why I am splitting it), yet perhaps we shall humbly accept that we are not above everything, but at a level playing field that may at times seem cruel, far from compassionate, rather loveless, but well, we need love to bind us, to survive, to spark our lives with its expansive nature in its purest form. For, love is complicated. As I am portraying in my current novel in progress — there are many forms of love, yet still they are One. May you find and experience as many forms as your limited life span allows. Trust love.