Lord, If You Still Love Me… Give Me a Sign

I. The Inquiry My life is at such a point that the only one who’d support my decisions would be Kanye West. The hoopoe now pushes itself forward in a cage, and that crow—speaks logically. I know the answer; still, I keep asking questions. Oh God, why all of this? I tried to be the child You love, from the darkness of night to the soft brightness of morning. I loved You like I loved my father. Trusted You as if You were my true love. Don’t You love me? Wasn’t I blown from Your breath? Like a ney flute, from diaphragm to lips, then turning into a whisper— my self. Me. II. The Fall How much deeper can one go? Where is the very bottom? Will this free fall last until my skin peels away and disappears? Crashing into edges, lower, even lower… While painting, I saved myself, again and again, from myself. But now, clear waters are not missing. From my eyes to my cheeks, the Iguazu Falls. The Devil’s Throat— on my face. Those I loved. Those who loved me. My talents. My soul that carries the essence of life. Your sacred kiss not pushing, but landing right in the middle of my chest. My armor of steel and concrete is now crooked, broken. Like my spine— half crippled in pain. The barren land where I erected angel altars, filled with stops I wished and begged for. And now I beg from You: You know what’s on my mind. In the voice of Klaus Meine: No!