the truth is
i do not think of you
even when we meet and you hug me
i do not think of you
even when you make me live again
or so you think
i do not think of you
when you think you carry me as a burden
and that you are in suffering
i still do not think of you
do not ask me why
it is you who thinks for me
you have carried away everything from me
that goodness is choking me
that kindness is killing me
since i cannot move
alone by myself
since you think of me as helpless
good-for-nothing
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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