at the point somewhere between
loneliness and
independence, one settles on faraway places,
to see how things are
from a distance, and you find out
it is you that seeks the company of others,
spends for their drinks, caters for their caprices,
enslaved and deprived,
it is you that has behaved as the insufficient one
always begging for
a relationship, and you conclude that you have
always been
the lonelier one,
the insecure one, looking for others' entertainment
dependent as an accessory metal to
their diamond natures,
but it will only be for a time, soon
you discover it and fights back, i mean,
you begin to question your own behavior,
and you shy away, feeling guilty about your
weaker side, and you begin to build the fences again
to make a good neighbor
of yourself,
you write in your journal, i have always been
a defeatist, needing always the hands of others,
those that press upon me
choke me and had almost killed me
those whose arms have become ropes around
my neck
you quit. you ponder again.
you look at the stars at night and marvel upon
the distances of each
and their solemn silence
their pride and self-esteem
always whole, glittering,
against the darkness of the
universe.
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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