what if
i stop loving you
will you accept that fact
the love sometimes
stops
upon its own ceasing
upon its own clock
stopping its own
ticking?
what if
you do the same to me
your same love
like a clock's ticking
too stopping
in a minute
as though its hands
are fractured
by its own rusty
gear?
now, this is scary
but come to think of it
it is
a possibility.....
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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