there are facts as vivid as the writings in a book
nothing changes in black and white
they come every morning and stay at nighttime
the familiarity of old places and to and fro pendulums
one takes a look at them again
they never rearrange themselves like furniture of a woman
who is still searching for her place in the house
one is surprised sometimes as they are seen in another light
one that you have never seen before and you think it must be
the only one that is real as real as a cemented wall as tough
as pillars of the house
tomorrow another angle alights from their shapes
and you change another belief again
until such time that you realize
and these they realized a long time ago
truth is relative
facts are angular
nothing is permanent
every thing is an atom in constant
flux in never ending vibrations
and as always
invincible.
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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