if you challenge him
he will not answer you
acceptance for that challenge to be separate
lives on separate feelings
on separate beds
can be as silent as feathers falling on a silk bed
then silently he turns into a line of red ants
taking slowly bits of leaves
and some tiny grains in a secret place
of his heart
buried somewhere else that even his eyes that see
do not know
where is it? where is the new home of the
bleeding heart? where can it rest finally when it is healed?
he does not tell you
he is building his dreams again block by block
invisible tower reaching another sky
orange and red
flaming hell
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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