Gate to truth



The last gate. Photo: DWV

Gate to truth


Gates open

and we go through.

From here

we can see the Atlantic Ocean

curve upwards

to hold the Americas

gently, steadily in foamy fingers.

Quite a sight.


We continue

on the walkway

paved with the embalmed,

solidified and hungry faces of saints.

It is rather slippery.


Through another gate.

Here we see gambolling green hills,

almost covered with notes

used by composers over the centuries,

grazing peacefully, and occasionally, only occasionally

bleating a quaver, seemingly purposelessly.


Walking on,

this time on a walkway

consisting of honest intentions,

compacted and held together

by a glue of credibility.

It is rather sticky and crumbles

at every step.


Through another gate:


A landscape

consisting of a truly gigantic bedsheet.

It stretches as far as the eye can see.

In the shimmering distance the low shape

of a mountain range that looks vaguely like a row of pillows.


White in places, green patches, red and mauve,

lines of brown and glittering blue, rusty orange,

maroon, purple, pink and cyan.


What is this?

The guide tells us

that this is where we will

encounter truth.

Only here it is to be found.


He hands us each a sundowner.

Relax, he says.

Find yourself a cosy fold and lie down.

You will have to be asleep

to travel here.

About kruger01

Poet, author, translator Grandfather of five. Bonsai grower.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s