From my new series: Washed Ashore (org.: Angeschwemmt), taken with Canon 500D. Dealing with the paradox of being both cast adrift and gently received by means of epistemology.
Where the breath of the very beginning and the sigh of ultimate fulfilment converged, I cleansed my pages. I cleansed the pages of the burdensome writing, and I had space for new truths that I was ready to behold.
The path led through the sea of self-forgetfulness, and my earthly existence became a cosmic pulse. Through thousands of lights I passed and drew aside one curtain after another, whilst the rays around me sparkled ever more brightly.
And I also cleansed my eyes of all that I had seen, so that I might love and cherish the Highest and the Most Beautiful even without comparison.
Time and time again the sun cast its rays upon the water’s surface, but I was still deep within the water and could not break through into the air. How far the water remains from the sun, when the sky stretches so vast between them. And just as I too shall never encounter the source of light directly, I shall be no less enchanted.
And whilst my essence was absorbed into myriads of stars, I could not free myself from the tiny flames that surrounded me. For in his opinions, in what he sees, man may be mistaken; yet he will never confuse warmth with cold, unless he is infatuated with the moon—and that is why lovers are so close to the torments of hell, yet even closer to the blessings of heaven. [text and photograph by Elvin Karda]