never had the chance
to visit Gethsemane
the thorns of the crown
on my head, never felt,
did not see the carrying of
the cross,
that darkest night of the
crucifixion, never been
there
in this middle of my
reflection
couldn't wait to see
Christ in His
Resurrection
i'd give up sorrow, grief,
lament, in exchange of
joy
it's the redemption that
matters most
our way of moving on
this long yet
unfinished journey
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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