the dance of life is a circle
few have realized that there is a need to escape it
bore a hole somewhere
and break the
cycle
they say out there there is more to
this circle
there is no sorrow
and mind you there is also no happiness
and they say it is perfection
what mind are they using?
what light? what walls are still there that
they speak so differently?
until now
like a buffalo i wallow in mud
but with due respect
i am so well rested
in the murky waters of my
content
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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