seven big leaves beside me
my black curly hair steady
i lay myself on a big plain rock
overlooking a very high cliff
two white herons flying low
touching my shoulders
as i look back
to a white horizon beyond me
These are poetic experiments. Man's quest for the poetic element never ceases. He is always caught in the eye of awe. He does not make the rules now. The rules change depending on the emotion that time and space feed him. He must see everything with his wide eyes gaping. The beginning of poetry too, like philosophy is wonder. Look and see. Do not stop wondering You are the poet. And everything is poetry. Wonder. Wander.
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