he is lost
took the train to nowhere
until he stops
mixing with the unknown figures
blending with the shadows
there is no talking
nothing to hold
someone from behind him
slits open his pocket
and took everyone
from him
his credit card his money
his ID
and he has no one to run to
no one to help him
he walks without stopping
on a muddy path
no flowers no clouds
just the twilight without end
the water from the river rises
up to the tip of trees
there was a rage and
i can no longer figure out
where was this figure
this tall lean man
who lost everything inside his pocket
his identification
his story inside my dream
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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