A Night in West Berlin
In the stillness of night, Berlin calls my name,
A city split, where shadows dance in flame.
The Wall, a silent sentinel of sorrow and strife,
Divides the heart, yet pulses with life.
Through narrow streets where echoes weave,
A guitar’s wail, like a Turkish breeze,
Whispers of a world both near and far,
Eerie notes that rise, then fall to spar.
Modern forms rise, stark in their light,
Concrete dreams that pierce the night.
Shadows play on surfaces sleek,
Where architecture whispers secrets deep.
The road bends, and there it stands,
Künstlerhaus, born from rebel hands.
A haven for the wild and free,
Where art defies conformity.
Inside, the air is thick with past,
The Tödliche Doris’ spell is cast.
Their music, a puzzle, a sculpted sound,
Each note a step on sacred ground.
Then in the depths, I find a door,
A square structure, four sides, no more.
On each, a sign that softly pleads,
“Do not disturb” — my heart, it heeds.
I push the door, the world inside,
A tiny globe, where dreams reside.
A moment’s breath, the world so small,
Yet in that sphere, I held it all.
A poignant touch of time and space,
A memory carved, a fleeting grace.
West Berlin, in its fractured might,
A place where darkness meets the light.
#WestBerlin #MysticalJourney #ColdWarEra #BerlinWall #NightInBerlin #TödlicheDoris #UndergroundArt #BerlinNights #UrbanExploration #AlternativeCulture
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