mariakimdal.se

As the Maestro has stopped playing
and the dance has ceased
As the compass needle is roving about the destination
As the celestial drama is over
and the daughter of the god has turned back home…

When Time has ceased
and the song become silent
As the wind has slackened and the stars faded
As the last flower of her species
has laid down to rest on frozen land…

As the flute-player has left
the Meads of the Blessed Spirits
As the poet’s heart is bleeding in the shadows
As the beautiful winter angel of the poem
has got frost-bitten its fragile wings…

As the ballade’s liberated paper-dragon
has crashed to the ground
As the blessed rain has drawn away
As the story-teller has gone astray
and lost herself among blue tones in the night…

As the flowery garland has withered away
and the glow turned to ashes
As the butterflies has got weary in their flight
As the eagle pierced by the arrow
has fallen to the bottom of the ocean…

…one shall see everything like in a mirror

Then the sun shall weave golden veils at dawn
Then the spheres once again shall tremble with life
Then the illusion shall in a moment
convert into the eternal pure and true