These Clouds of Unknowing

Really, I don’t have a clue about what I‘m going to write now. Could I be drawn into some kind of nonsense story? Lettingrise these words irrespective of their meaning. True or false? Sincere or cunning? Suppose you were my audience, not necessarily a crowd gathered for lust of power. But just a small Group of socalled followers somewhere on one of the social media interconnected  on a worldwideweb. And there are galaxies of these interactive meetingpoints.
Imagine I’m all alone in front of my computer, looking out of the window, not finding a meaningfull theme or point of interest to write about. And what could I do then? Just freak out? Hurling out my hatred, sorrow, frustration, fears about anything, anyone? Calling for uggly actions, scolding  other people in dirty or whatsoever words..?
You know why we would not write or speak out in such a manner. Because that would run counter our most inner motives to present ourselves spiritually in this World, digitally mediated or not.
Yes, I could feel invited, seduced into writing complete nonsense poetry like they did in the style of DADA. Which – by the way We loved to read and write and perform when Willemien and I were just married. I will come back on this because She kept the line and went on to collect, explore and play around texts, collages and and paintings etc. of the Dadaists, Surrealists and other Absurdists in our history of litterature, theatre and art. In fact, the book She was reading that Saturday evening the 20th of June was: Die Märchen vom Paradies (The Fairytales from Paradise) from  the German Dadaist artist, writer and poet Kurt Schwitters.
And indeed You, my dear Love, You enjoyed reading all these examples and living sources of incomprehensible, surprising treasures of creativity. It made you feel happy and laugh and sing, like you were dreaming around in paradise, picking wild flowers as a little girl. You could look out of the window after a long, unsatisfactory day, discover a funny face or a horrible monster in a treebranch or a dark cloud at sundown. You celebrated Your lively creative Imagination in Your and our dancing, writing, painting and reading. Or making love with me..
Now you see. There you  have our Clue to see in a visionary way, with our Inner eyes into these dark clouds outside. Dark and red just after the Sun has set.