RATIO LIMITS

  

With clenched, abscessed, snarling teeth, even long-suffering, who has settled forever for pain after life, I chase and chase the riddle hidden in infinity every day. And because the sincere, glowing weight of passion binds me more and more and holds me captive in curious hunger, I search for the secret spiral lines of the knowable ratio.

The proportions: the real, the secret, perhaps even reversible, which trembles towards me in the wilderness of the inner soul incessantly visible and readable, and flickers there with its Fireflies flickering behind the solidified forehead of reason; my brain still slumbers silently in its seedy tunnels, �" but it can always know its mission matters if it has to confess! �" The delimited, half-hearted envelopes of my destiny are stretched by the melancholic clash of the invisible depths outside the sun. My transparent, crystal clear eyes, those who look into it without fatigue can see the hidden essence: a familiar, lost, childish home, where they can always be a little themselves!

My heart is full of intentional feeling and yet imperceptible and can only bulge so audibly that what can be maintained will go without it, although it is not completely indispensable. The inner secrets of our ratio: whole, unnecessary, wounded doubt. It can no longer break into pieces, as it is still bleeding, like a reddening twilight flame. Yet millions of tiny tears flash from the pearl lakes of the eyes to more compassionate hearts, where the soul also finds harmony and understanding.

Our exiled primordial harmony is the most difficult to find again, if we always have to be a judge against the impossible rules of the commissioner. �" I would be looking for the ratio, we would not waste it on the barren and lonely shores of dark chasms, but it would shake away, like the beautified child of the blessed mother's lap!