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- Herausgeber: tredition
- Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
- Serie: BIOGRAFIE IN KUNST
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
Kati Voß issue II of the series "BIOGRAPHY IN ART" category: spirituality english version BIOGRAPHY OF LIFE - Leaving a trace Falling into the depths. That language of the deaf let them be heard in the voices of the mute. This world was not always as it was now. Sly in her perception of the lines in between, Theres did not fit into a scheme at all, even if the 'F' had already been dropped. Her longing for belonging had dissipated. Now she interwove her life of otherness with the storms of timeless time as well as the winds of the seas. She did not think like all the others. Earlier, as a child, she had not noticed it at all. She never fought for anyone's favour. That was probably why she was overlooked by all the ideal images of the old days. When these met her today, astonishment was interwoven with realisation: every world offered for sale made her shatter: the beauty of the inside turned towards the light in the dark as well as from the dark towards the light.
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Kati Voß
BIOGRAPHY OF LIFE
Leaving a trace
Kati Voß
BIOGRAPHY OF LIFE
Leaving a trace
Original edition
© 2024Kati Voß
https://akademie-derweisheit.de
Proofreading by: Kati Voß, www.akademie-der-weisheit.de
Cover design by: Kati Voß, www.akademie-der-weisheit.de
Typesetting & layout by: Kati Voß, www.akademie-der-weisheit.de
Translated by: Kati Voß, www.akademie-der-weisheit.de
Published by: AKADEMIE DER WEISHEIT / Kati Voß Publishing
label: AKADEMIE DER WEISHEIT, www.akademie-der-weisheit.de
Image source: https://pixabay.com/photos/stained-glass-spiral-circle-pattern-1181864/
ISBN Softcover: 978-3-384-01888-5
ISBN Hardcover: 978-3-384-01889-2
ISBN E-book: 978-3-384-01890-8
Printed and distributed on behalf of the author: tredition GmbH, Heinz-Beusen-Stieg 5, 22926 Ahrensburg, Germany
This work, including its parts, is protected by copyright. The author is responsible for the content. Any utilisation is not permitted without her consent.
Publication and distribution are authorised by the author, who can be contacted at: tredition GmbH, Department "Imprint Service", Heinz-Beusen-Stieg 5, 22926 Ahrensburg, Germany.
Bibliographical information from the German National Library
The German National Library lists this publication in the German National Bibliography; detailed bibliographic data can be data is available on the Internet at http://dnb-nb.de.
All rights of distribution, including by radio, television and other means of communication, including electronic means, photomechanical or audio reproduction and reprinting of extracts reserved.
In memory of all those whose traces have long since been erased, but whose seeds will forever their miracles to flourish.
Dedicated to to my children Til, Alix & Lua and Mira & Damian and to my mother Maria Theresia
It only takes a few words before the silence, to meet the depth.
Kati Voß
Inhalt
Cover
Titelblatt
Urheberrechte
Widmung
PROLOG
You wonder why I'M more intertwined with sadness?
WAY waiting in looking away
Epilogue
BIOGRAFIE IN KUNST
Cover
Titelblatt
Urheberrechte
Widmung
You wonder why I'M more intertwined with sadness?
Epilogue
BIOGRAFIE IN KUNST
Cover
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
To be here
To be here
where you never are
To be here
where that is
what you never see
To be here
where I am surrounded
what you never feel
To be here
where no hope
scatters the light
where no waiting
breaks the darkness
where no trembling
grips the body
where no being
was ever here.
Here is not where
where you think
that it is.
There never was me,
because you see this world
only with your eyes
Being here is never there.
I am only
only everywhere.
Here.
Kati Voß
2024
PROLOG
If freedom was spent in the poverty of memory, anger reigned in the flow of the oceans of the world, which rose anew each time the wind passed through their waters. At first it brushed gently over the waters of the places on this earth, only to undermine them a little later, to break away from them. In their pain, they rebelled and fought back with all their might. From then on, every single drop fought on its own to free itself from the community until it fell down, surrounded by its own kind, lost in the mass of eternal water. Torn down into the depths of the folding height, whose urge to be on its own was not entitled to any empowerment, only this containment of togetherness was regarded as the providence of the common defence. Everyone was to survive this overpowering event, praised for the silence in the lukewarmness of the coming time. Then all the events of destruction were forgotten, in which everything burst apart, whose path crossed the winds. The search revealed this emptiness, whose voices rose plaintively from the distance of the ground touched by the individual: Only some succeeded in falling so low and touching what approached at the height of the sun. But in this darkness, before the stillness of purity, the wind fled: too little could it cause unrest in its place. There they met, the peaceful ones, whose sounds made patterns in their form, that white falling from above, whose face they never got to see. It was meant to be: the impenetrability of separation prevailed through the undivided crowd. What if there was only one single drop among them that did not have its equal? Even if it perished, it would be joy and pain at the same time, neither of which would prevail. The secret carries within it the colours of the ground, in its darkness all tones are reflected in the crystalline of that individual who will always be a part of the whole, no matter what happens to him …
***
"At some point it won't matter. Then there's nothing left but to be. And to touch others. If they want to be touched in the fullness of the world. It's still a burden. And distracts you from your actual mission." "No, I fulfil my essential mission, much more than many dumplings: everyone has the choice of how they react. Some take detours and weigh themselves up in unspeakable happiness, others revel in the poetry of the nation, others sink into the events of endless loops. Everyone knows how difficult it is to exercise patience - a state that is reminiscent of hanging by a thread. It is the same with those constantly repeating emotional reactions. Time passes on the hands of the clocks and lets them linger beyond our control as long as all the patterned reactions of those pre-programmes in the brain follow different neuronal paths. With little restraint on comparative memory, they reign without intervention by means of the almost unstoppable consent of the unconscious and resolve what they have always been able to trigger in the same or old events."
Theres smiled at the questioning crowd. Some seemed absent, others dismissive, others questioning, unaffected or moved. She was tired of explaining. The steps she was allowed to descend led deeper each time, only to the opposite depth of external necessity. There were still many whose lives went on like this, with all the usual dramas that they thought about even before they could think.
"It's not about what answers you have or get, but what questions you ask."
she remained silent into the crowd.
