i travel through time when i look at you again
i cover so much space just to go near you and have a little smell
of what you are: an old scent the brand is faded since then
i never told anyone, it is inside my heart
imprisoned, there is no key, there are only bars and
there is no light, one can feel how damp love is
how faint its sounds for help
but no one is there except the darkness
keeping company to one who had long been dead
and still unburied
you can imagine the stink, the rotten smell, the
decayed existence
the heartbeat is zero, and not one visits to check
what happened after
it seems that everything simply disappears
well, it happened, and no one wants to recount,
there is no one who knows exactly
that real, saddest story.
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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