"She evokes the same awe, horror and pity
as do schizophrenics", an observer has noted,
"who often combine deep, true insight
with utter helplessness,
and who retreat into madness."
facing the stones that
rise into figures of her own horror
she goes outside
and asks for the help of
someone who must believe her
there is no one
and that is the main agony
of her days
turning instantly into nights.
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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