the sounds of dislocated birds
(homeless ones)
mark my morning, here,
far beyond, the mountains are
denuded
the trees are cut massively
man's greed again,
the caves are invaded for some
kind of a need for bat soup,
slashing, something of that sort,
the saying goes, as God creates,
Man destroys.
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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