Zeit Epos

Time Epic

Incessant murmuring,

gurgling, splashing -

the water rushes down

down to the sea -

where the marriage

with other rivers -

where its power

will be mighty,

when the wind - the sower -

whips the waters ceaselessly

against the beaches.

Bright jingling

of small stones

at the bottom of the water,

the debris,

the maelstrom,

moves slowly,

imperceptibly changing,

over the shallow

soft forms,

hollowing out further,

incessantly,

no stillness,

no standing,

always in motion,

always

the same river

summer and winter

full of glorious water,

never the same,

Every moment new

it passes by,

the many and the one.

In the flow of water,

in the flow of time,

is life,

at first barely perceptible -

with open eyes

we look

through the silver-green

shine.

Down in the dark waters

it is full of life,

For us

a closed world.

In the swaying beat of the fins

they pass through their world,

No rapids too swift,

no waterfall too high.

Here they play their game -

that we call love,

that ancient game

of life and death.

We speak of infinite love -

unaware of their own finitude,

they lay their fruit among the stones -

at the bottom.

Quite peacefully death makes its entrance,

where there was life,

Death and the river -

all one,

Constant coming and going.

Time -

what is time?

And yet,

new life is already growing

while the old dies.

Present and past,

everything becomes one -

everything flows.

A first crack

in the small round shell,

there a second,

everywhere, as far as the eye can see,

new young life.

Tiny little,

it slips out of the safety of the cave -

so young it already carries its end within itself -

without even suspecting it.

Soon there is not enough food

is not enough for the many,

Together they are drawn downstream.

They know their way,

No one has told them.

There is a drift, a flow, a swim,

Everybody knows the destination -

and have immediately forgotten it.

Unstoppable,

barely pausing for breath,

they are drawn out,

to where all the water gathers.

Past mouldy water,

propellers and the dull sound of engines

out

out to the open sea.

Here in the boundless freedom

a richly laid table awaits them -

but even this paradise knows

of eating and being eaten.

Prudence and attentiveness

ensure life.

Here the big mouth,

there the close-meshed net of the cutters,

danger lurks everywhere.

And yet,

it is a place to grow.

In the bright water

bizarre floes of ice float -

white blue-green the water sparkles,

in the sun's rays.

Silver arrows trace their course.

To live carefree is a dream -

there is a change -

there is no longer the right place here -

there's a sign that no one sees -

suddenly it's there -

the memory,

the knowledge of the roots,

Longing returns,

a trembling goes through the swarm.

The great journey

begins anew.

Everyone is driven back,

an inexplicable longing,

towards home,

Like they've never felt before.

They go uphill along the river,

Waterfall, what do you want?

They taste their destination,

yes here, this is the right path.

Incessant rushing,

gurgling, splashing -

hurriedly the water

down to the sea -

where the marriage

with other rivers -

where its power

will be mighty,

when the wind - the sower -

whips the waters ceaselessly

against the beaches.

Bright jingling

of small stones

at the bottom of the water,

the debris,

the maelstrom,

moves slowly,

imperceptibly changing,

over the shallow

soft forms,

hollowing out further,

incessantly,

no stillness,

no standing,

always in motion,

always

the same river

summer and winter

full of glorious water,

never the same,

Every moment new

it passes by,

the many and the one.

In the flow of water,

in the flow of time,

is life,

at first barely perceptible -

with open eyes

we look

through the silver-green

shine.

Down in the dark waters

is full of life

is for us

a closed world.

In the swaying beat of the fins

they pass through their world

no rapids too fast

no waterfall too high.

Here they play their game -

that we call love,

that ancient game

of life and death.

We speak of infinite love -

unaware of their own finitude,

they lay their fruit among the stones -

at the bottom.

Quite peacefully death enters

where there was still life,

Death and the river -

all one,

Constant coming and going.

Time -

what is time?

Gerd J. Wunderer