The time has come to look back to go foreward. I have forgotten my wishes and dreams. The fiery glow that they kindled in me, which gave me will and strength, is cold and I look upon my self, I see resignation and I-resulution. It can not go on like this. So I can not go on. I would rather face death than this unfulfilled life, rather death, than to dragging myself from one day to the next without a longing, without passion. I can not go on like this. Where did I leave my lifebloom? The time has come to go back and seek it, so that he can re-illuminate my future paths.
Wrapped in a thin sweater, I enter the foggy marsh of my memory. I have left the fire far behind me, for I can no longer feel its blazing warmth in the present. I look at the damp ground and look for my overflowed footprints to find the way to the past. Like crustaceans and creepers, repressed everyday life memories escape the muddy morass, and as they wriggle around my naked feet, they want to attract my thoughts. The little crabs, whom I once wanted to meet with kindness and compassion, squeeze me painfully with their scissors of envy, horny worms pollute my pure body and the innocence of my mind with their slimy touch, but the crawling proclaimers of equality, who want to put their ideals like insect larvae under my goose bumps horrify me most. My steps lead me over the whole mess of mean spite. I step down on the vermin, pushing them back into the mud from which they have crumbled and go on. This is not the place where I have left my fire.
The mist embraces around me coldly and I perceive the great, eternally dark cold which lies beyond the fields of memory. I wrap myself more tightly into the soft woolen fabric and look resolutely on my way to the past. Today I can not investigate the great darkness, but I am broken again to find my lifebloom. Still, I know that the day will come when I have to face her again, this time only I will cover her in the veil of forgetting. Until I let her out, she would wait patiently, for me, no, in me. May the fate give that I light the darkness with mighty fires and fresh courage.
As I walk further, in some distance I perceive the silhouettes of dead trees. They seem to have been once powerful beasts of excitement that grew sturdily into life, then solidified in the midst of a vigorous movement. Their leaf- and impotent branches burst into the air, as if they were awakening at any moment from their immobility and to start a dynamic sequence of different battle postures. I approach them and feel the bark of a large tree, which is black and still radiates warmth. What had happened here? I recall my joy, which was sparkling in every direction, and I remember the joy that blossomed in me with every possibility that opened to me, but a long time ago, in my will for self-perfection, I had discovered it as a deceiver and had revealed that their roots were feeding on poisonous waters of vanity. Now that I saw their dead beauty, there was more than the ashes worthy of the better-than-another. Their growth, their striving, had been based on the same fire that burned them afterwards. The desire for greatness for its own will, its existence, the grip on life and after mortal dreams. But where was my fire now, since it had been a last time, and left me only the knowledge of the destruction.
I found it in the time when I had not known sensuality. Since then, all the pain that the desire for love had evoked was heavily and steadily laid over the joyfully tingling flames that were playing around my physical desire. And the passion, which still flourished in the first loving sexuality was then brought to the reality, that brought boredom, disgust and insult with it, sick and dirty it finally had to go out. Year after year I had had to learn that the lived love did not burn as it did in books and the great stories that had led my will towards it. The true fire had to go out in the love and the tears that it brought, and I had finally given away everything, all fire, all strength.
I banished the love from my heart and returned with my lifebloom from the land of memory. It was time to release the stones from my heart to give birth to new flaming dreams and desires. The time had come to look back to go foreward.

Thank you for reading :) If you would like to read the German version of this text check out this link:
https://steemit.com/art/@yoganarchista/im-land-der-erinnerung-original-story-modelling-editing-gif

Lots of Love and Light <3