Quotes from Göran Sonnevi

Vad är det jag inte vet om mig själv Sannolikt nästan allt Var därför inte rädd

We're illuminated by a larger, unknown light We are manifestations on its surface We look at one another Enormities of darkness What is it then that exists? Neither can informed unknowing exist Nor can any gnostic darkness or light I see the angel of light Hear the voice Blinded Again and again this returns Even at the bottom of light

Into the dark matter I will disappear But still I go deeper into the labyrinth I don't know if it is the labyrinth of the continuum Who, what, is it that I leave to you?

Our souls flutter Our brains have butterfly brilliance The stars look at us, with their distant light, their giddiness, in their nests of nothing

Freedom also has the potential to annihilate because it is limitless.

The words moved out into the darkness hovered like butterflies somehow freestanding I heard the abyss breathing

As if all of us existed only in the bondage of the will From inside each autonomy grows the light of grace; when it is not murderous; as if the Graces existed, were alive, in their ambiguity, their infinite delicacy . . .

The stroke of each caress, to the abyss Whether dark or transparent We shall not know No stroke is a caress; not even in its gentlest gesture Your skin touches mine Music touches us, with its innermost membranes . . .

We are the many We bear luminous wounds We bear the possibility of love; also its real sweetness Its sound

At night I dream of snakes; vipers, of different colors Your face looks at me I am anti-social; cannot participate This is my stigma; inscribed as a snakebite I bear the crescent moon I also bear you, beloved As my living sign

The stream of love breaks down Fluid lightning The flash of vibrating being But also the flash of darkness The light of Beatrice's eyes, their lightning flash How am I to understand this? How to understand unknowing That I do not!

With my body's soul I touched what is repulsive; I closely searched the turning, the transformation of the signs in the heavens, in the universal war.

How can you, made of shining night, be love's jewel?

Slowly Hades retreats This time The transparent sea touches the shore The edge of fine sand shifts, softly, exactly

Love has no logos.

vad är det som blir synligt? I gränsskikten mellan det osynligas former uppstår bilden Eller det verkliga