morning wakes us up
with the gusts of the
winds from its
whispers ,
loneliness creeps again
inside our bones
we quiver to this
we like to harvest reasons
the grains of wisdom are ripe
we take the chaff and
let them go
we are here with the purity
of what is left
and on the table now my love
we share
this grace.
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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