i see indifferent soft sands
i feel the fineness of their being in my palm
i bury my thoughts there
my hands holding on
to what is falling out of my grasp
the waves murmur
so envious about my silence.
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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