To My Sphere

my friend
are you a stone
are you the one who throws stones randomly
are you kicking them
or do you align them for days and weeks
are you a distant stone in a galaxy far away
and burning beyond yourself

what about you my friend
are you an apple
are you the one who bites the apple
the one who grows
and feeds someone else with it
or are you Jesus
who multiplies five hundred out of one 

my other friend
are you the one who sees the beehive
who becomes the beehive
and stays inside alone silently
are you the human guarding the hive
or the bear hunting it

new beautiful friend
are you a sapling sprouting sideways from a rock
growing up, gushing straight into the bright sun
after bending in the strong wind
through the winter
are you straightening your back to the sun
do you always wait for spring like me
to taste the most bitter in winter again
so, my tree, when were you born
are you the one who is not from this era

my friend
are you a mountain thyme
spurting between cold gray sharp stones 
or are you sharp rocks
with open breast and sunburn
that cut through who touches 
and giving strength to the thin shoots


what about you, my friend far away
are you a survivor
crossing continents on a log
crossing the waters without flag or congratulations
while still giving
are you a persistent old beaver

my brothers and sisters
are you related to my bloodline
are you the past that gets better
with old leaves and towns and fights
who keeps turning the hourglass
or are you grains of sand that rolls and rolls in it
are you the ones waiting for me to reach out my hand
or the ones I'm waiting for to put their hands out

what about you my friend
are you the one with the biggest hug
and also the one who makes me feel the most nauseous
the one I love that much
are you a whip, flaming
whose flame sweetly scratches my sleep at night
or are you the one who struck me with the whip
and questioning me meanwhile
or are you the one who silences my questioning self with a whip

what about you my friend
the one I called a friend at past
are you the one who rules my mind ghosts
the one who can't handle being a ghost
or the one who knows best how to be worse than a ghost

what about myself
I am either waiting for a prophet
or an incompetent prophet
soon to be beheaded
maybe I am just a stone
that even the word of a prophet is not hanging around
just going to pass by

I may be a self-proclaimed prophet
not a shepherd of billions like them 
but while watching a leaf growing
I even love the molds of its mother earth
and while growing with the waters of ages and geographies
a prophet who also grows them
or I am a stone that is found beautiful and loved
an apple eater
a honey taster
or am I watching the tree with awe
or am I the one who recognizes the cliffs
grasping the sharp ends
jumping even on smooth surfaces
am I the one who knows how to be on the rocks

or am I watching from a distance
with sadness and envy for the beaver's work
or is there a sad song playing endlessly
when my blood is rushing so fast
in my strange body
while my hands are reaching to others
for the purpose of grasping and comprehension
am I the one who don't give up what I think I know


(My first post here, hopefully I'll share more poems or stories. I also created the digital collages above, with photos I took from some local sculptures & with royalty free images, incorporating various textures and glitch effects.)