About Me — Sebastian Wieser
something about a senseless pursuit of making sense of life.
Normally I dislike biographies. I have a hard time describing who I am. There is so much too talk about but when I want to write about it, nothing comes to mind.
It’s almost as if my self is hiding behind a shade-giving rock fearful of what happen on the other side.
So I try something different. I’ll write you a poem about me.
Born in a village full of ignorance and hate
my scars scattered through my soul I feel
I can’t breathe yet nature seems to keep me sane
all the beautiful flowers, structures and questions.
One leaf in my hand and the world becomes a playground
thinking: Why is it green? Why does it look like this? Why
do I think in the way I think? Why does German sound like German?
Why do we exist? What is the purpose of this journey? What is life?
These questions, this voyage into the mysteries of life keep me sane
keep me wanting to live, not just to live, but to fully live
hate is a weak force, only there to destroy but love, real love is
more than just a force, it’s a state of being, maybe the state of our being?
So now all this ignorance left my peripheral view replaced by
philosophizing about the structure of language and yeah I
know less than when I was a kid, but I know more than when
I was a blind youth following his primal desires for recognition.
Here I am now writing and finding new ways to express, but the
express is missing, where do I want to go? No end in sight no train
no way of finding what seems to be unfindable. And I say : It’s good that way.
In a way this lets me find the space of existence in my senseless pursuit of happiness.
Cryptic I see my language seems but seemingly it feels like a charm,
devouring my whole being into a stream of random words put together
to create a story we understand and share. I meet you there. Where? The universe expands and demands sanity from us humans. Give it to her!
I’m not sure if this gave you a better impression of me, but what does this give you? We always seek to know the person, but when do we really listen? I feel like knowing someone is not by reading their biography, but by feeling like they do. Hence I think poetry is another way to enter the soul of the other being.
But I can be mistaken. Life is mysterious.
Oh and when you want to know me even better, here are some of my favorite stories (some of them are even “normal” stories ha ha):
