Author: Leon, Dehumanization, Despair, Divine, Female empowerment, Heroism, Hope, Humanity, Poetic translations, Posts in English, Prayer, Recommended by Leon, Recommended by Plutonia, Seelengeschwister, Soul siblings, Twin Flames, Universal Love, WWII
Plutonia and I watched an interesting post-apocalyptic film yesterday, which wonderfully combines with the following prose poem dearest Heidrun Regina shared today in the German original. The film, an image from which I use towards the end of this post, may be too noisy and brutal for some, but these lines will be gratefully appreciated by all dear ones.
Wolfgang Borchert was a German author and playwright who served in the Wehrmacht during the Second World War, and who in his works never compromises in questions of humanity and humanism. He wrote Dann gibt es nur eins! a few days before he died at the age of 26, in 1947.
We still need this spirit today, and it seems that even the gentler souls among us, often especially these precious ones, will be called to be brave, each in our own unique ways, never alone, never getting lost in this world, all of us together joining hands and keeping the connection between Heaven and Earth, the awareness of our Love essence.
Thank you, Heidrun. Thank you, everyone. 💜 🙏 Leon
* * *
Translated by Ryan Wilcox
Then There’s Only One Thing To Do!
You. Man at the machine and man in the workshop. If they order you tomorrow to stop making water pipes and cook pots and start making helmets and machine guns, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Girl behind the counter and girl at the office. If they order you tomorrow to fill hand grenades and mount scopes on sniper rifles, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Factory owner. If they order you tomorrow, to sell gun powder instead of talcum powder and cocoa, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Researcher in the laboratory. If they order you tomorrow, to invent a new death to do away with old life, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Poet in your room. If they order you tomorrow not to sing love songs, but songs of hate, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Doctor at the sick bed. If they order you tomorrow to certify men as fit for war, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Minister in the pulpit. If they order you tomorrow to bless murder and praise war as holy, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Captain on the steamer. If they order you tomorrow not to transport wheat but cannons and tanks, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Pilot at the airfield. If they order you tomorrow to carry bombs and incineraries over cities, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Tailor at your table. If they order you tomorrow to start sewing uniforms, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Judge in your robe. If they order you tomorrow to report to the military court, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Man at the train station. If tomorrow they order you to give the signal for the ammunition and the troop trains to depart, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Man in the village and man in the city. If they come for you tomorrow and with your induction papers, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Mother in Normandy and mother in the Ukraine, you, mother in Frisco and London, you, on the banks of the Huang Ho and the Mississippi, you, mother in Nepal and Hamburg and Cairo and Oslo – mothers in all regions on earth, mothers all over the world, if they order you tomorrow to bear children – nurses for military hospitals and new soldiers for new battles, mothers all over the world, then there’s only one thing to do:
Say NO! Mothers, say NO!
Because if you don’t say NO,
if YOU don’t say no, mothers, then;
In the noisy port cities, hazy with steam, the large groaning ships will grow silent, and like titanic, mammoth corpses, filled with water, they will lethargically totter against the lifeless, lonely, algae-, seaweed-, and shell-covered walls of the docks, the body that previously appeared so gleaming and threatening now reaking like a foul fish cemetery, rotten, sickly and dead –
the streetcars will be senselessly bent and dented like dull, glass-eyed birdcages and lie like petals beside the confused, steel skeletons of the wires and tracks, behind rotten sheds with holes in their roofs, in lost, crater-strewn streets –
a mud-gray, heavy, leaden silence will roll in, voracious and growing in size, will establish itself in the schools and universities and theaters, on sport fields and children’s playgrounds, horrible and greedy and unstoppable –
the sunny, juicy grapes will spoil on the neglected slopes, the rice will dry up in the desolate earth, the potatoes will freeze in the plowed fields and the cows will stretch their dead, rigid legs into the sky like upturned milking stools –
in the institutions, the ingenious inventions of the great physicians will become sour, rot, mold into fungus –
the last sacks of flour, the last jars of strawberries, the pumpkins and the cherry juice will spoil in the kitchens, chambers and cellars, in the cold storage lockers and storage areas – the bread under the upturned tables and on splintered plates will become green and the melted butter will smell like soft soap, the grain on the fields will have bent down to the earth alongside rusty plows like a defeated army, and the smoking, brick chimneys, the food and smokestacks of the stamping factories, covered by eternal grass, will crumble, crumble, crumble –
then the last human being, clueless with slashed intestines and polluted lungs, will wander alone under the poisonous, glowing sun and vacillating constellations, wander lonely among immense mass graves and cold idols of the gigantic, concrete-block, deserted cities, the last human being, scrawny, mad, blasphemous, complaining – and his terrible complaint: WHY? will trickle away unheard into the steppe, waft through the burst ruins and die out in the rubble of churches, slap against inpenetratable bunkers, fall into pools of blood, unheard, answerless, the last animal-like cry of the last animal human being –
all of this will come about, tomorrow, tomorrow perhaps, perhaps already tonight, if – if – if – you don’t
* * *
Our YES to Peace
keeps the connection
between Heaven and Earth,
the awareness of our Love essence.
S I L E N C E
* * *
Not without fight
is one voice
to find one more
lose count of blessings
while running in trenches
fear, hate, shells flying around
They had bombarded us apart
but since that cold ’94 day
won’t let go each other’s hand
High love is punished here
they’ll cross, spiritual even,
manipulating, crippling you
abhorring karmic reunions
Smile in their face, rise above
these faithless murderers.
Illusions, lies, norms
lighting up heavens
Love’s glory fast revealed
No soul cut-off from Oneness
each one a timeless sacred flame
each silent effort heals all worlds
I n f i n i t y S u f f u s e U s
Come, keep it up my Love
spark all hearts alive
let bliss soar high
Leon of SolitaryThinkers,
November 12, 2015
November 12, 1994
After countless battles, the fiercest yet to come,
Leon and Plutonia are forever reunited.
I knew this gorgeous girl from my dreams.
Daughter of Aries,
Queen of Hades,
all rolled up in one.
I had been crying for her for so long,
praying my heart out for her to cross the beyond,
for us to meet above all veils of lies,
and now finally here she was,
standing in front of me, staring at me,
the campus around us fading away.
They were gleaming in her eyes,
the universes we were to traverse,
and she saw me just as clearly herself.
Her Brighteyes, she called me,
she who had the glow of an elf.
She is the One
who still holds
my heart’s keys.
I am the Lion
in her dreams.
I Love You, Plutonia, beyond thought and all time.
I Love You through my deep core of bright light divine.
Nothing can divide us with Eternity on our side.
Amore, solo amore ė quello che sento per te… per sempre!
((( Leon ❤ ❤ Plutonia )))
* * *
* * * *
The outcry is deafening, even if it’s only the eyes doing the screaming. Stoic eyes, angry eyes, fearful eyes, defiant eyes. You see them everywhere. You see them in the endless queues in front of the ATMs, where people, patiently and anxiously at the same time, are waiting to withdraw those few precious banknotes that will ensure basic survival for themselves and their loved ones for one more day. You see them in the supermarkets, where those precious banknotes are exchanged, often with slightly trembling hands, for groceries, maybe even at a gas station that still has some fuel to offer, cash only of course, filling up their cars.
And this is about it. Then you see them no more. Empty streets and silence. Only that haunting whisper remains: What is to become of us?
Summer of 2015. Welcome to Greece, the perfect holiday resort. Great weather, beautiful beaches, glorious mountains. But where did all the Greeks go? To the pits of Hell.
Ever since last Sunday, the storm clouds that had been gathering for so long now, finally broke out into one perfect storm. Financial lockdown. The final strangulation of an entire nation that is being brought to its knees.
I will not concern myself here with the reasons for all of this, the debate would be endless and pointless. Sure, pointing the finger is easy, but do you really believe that you know the entire truth, when you feel compelled to put the blame on someone?
I can only describe what I see, and try very hard not to lose heart.
Old people, old, frail and often sick people are being driven like cattle under close police watch into a few selected bank branches to collect all in all 120 Euros from their pensions or savings for the entire week, just because they don’t possess an ATM card out of fear or mistrust for the use of ATMs. In some cases their pensions have not even been paid yet into their accounts and they return home empty-handed. The rest of us are allowed to withdraw 60 Euros per day, oops, I’m sorry, I meant 50 Euros, as 20 Euro bills have already become a rare sight in most ATMs. If, of course, we have any savings left, if our employer has been able to pay us our salary, if we even have a job.
Money transfers to and from other countries have ceased completely, leaving thousands of Greeks, students, travellers, patients undergoing treatment in foreign hospitals stranded abroad without any access to cash or even the use of credit and debit cards issued by Greek banks. Those in Greece who are totally dependent on money transfers from relatives living and working abroad or foreign pension funds are also left to fend for themselves, as Greek banks don’t have enough cash reserves to satisfy demand, even with those tight withdrawal limits. According to various statements off the record, cash flow from the ATMs will most probably stop by Monday, sending even more shockwaves to the system. Money is just being recycled within the borders of our country, creating a false sense of normality, while banks announced on Thursday that they will be now accepting cash deposits for tax payments and the like only! Sure, we all are supposed to be hiding billions of cash under our mattresses, our personal “Stroma Bank” which Greeks are bitterly joking about, “stroma” being the Greek word for mattress.
Commercial and financial activity has broken down to a total deadlock. Greater and smaller business are unable to keep up their work cycles without access to their bank accounts and with their materials running out fast, employees are asked to stay at home without any pay, suppliers cannot be paid anymore, imports and exports have stopped and it is only a matter of days before shortages in food and other commodities starts getting more noticeable with subsequent price increases. Pharmacies have already begun rationing pharmaceutical drugs, life-saving treatments are being broken off, the national healthcare system that has been crumbling for so long, is now collapsing. Remote regions of the country are facing serious fuel shortage as gas stations just cannot refill their tanks. A supplementary economy such as that of Greece cannot survive in a globalized environment without the necessary imports for almost every aspect of everyday life, as the productive basis of the country was destroyed decades ago, and even food production, in an otherwise blessed-with-an-almost-perfect-climate-and-rich-soil-to-grow-literally-anything country cannot cover the needs of the entire population. Hellas, the country of eternal light, is in immediate danger of going hungry on a large scale.
And today, on July 5th, we are being asked to choose. The referendum is underway, and millions of seriously traumatised and disturbed people are asked to act rationally, to demonstrate sound judgment, when all the while a divisive wedge has been driven deeply into the very core of an innately peaceful nation. For five years now, the Greeks have been collectively bashed, ridiculed, insulted, humiliated. This has resulted in mutual feelings of being exploited and threatened with the rest of Europe. We are being perceived as crooks and blackmailers, they are being perceived as cold-blooded assassins. No common ground anymore. In certain parts of Greek society the initial sense of despair and indignation has mutated into an all-devouring rage and the tormented ones are about to turn into tormentors. All this has been witnessed again before, with devastating results, when another nation, another people, to whom I am also deeply connected by blood, was pushed over the edge, bringing forth from its ranks a dictator that drenched the entire world in blood. Size and military strength don’t always play such a crucial role, sometimes all it takes is just a tiny spark.
In times such as these, when everyone feels darkness and madness prevailing, I am greatly blessed to be engulfed in my very own ray of hope.
Leon, light of my life, song of my soul, you are the one reason that I do not falter, that I keep on fighting, that I keep on believing. The warm embrace of your arms, the tender touch of your lips, the loving blaze in your eyes, those very same eyes that so powerfully compelled me to call you my Brighteyes when our young hearts connected for the first time, the whole of you sustains me, warms me, empowers me. We have been through so much together, side by side we have fought and won uncountable wars and still the sensation of my hand inside yours thrills me like the very first time. So many times they tried to break us up. They failed. So many times the world came tumbling down on us. We managed to go on. With you on my side, I know that we will also weather this storm out. We will prevail. In this lifetime or the next. You have my love, purely, absolutely. Always and forever.
Plutonia of SolitaryThinkers, July 2015