| all i see is the mist, on top of this hill the bloom of flowers are hidden at night my lover comes concealed by darkness and at dawn, after a tryst, she goes our again, oh, she comes like a happy memory but like a dream, she cannot stay in the morning, as i watch a cloud coming, it is her that i always remember |
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.
Friday, April 30, 2010
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