did i tell you once that i also like to become an echo?
that i like to ask the simple question to the mountain
like: Hello? Is there anybody there?
as though, there is this scene that the world has ended
and i am the only one left,
and there is nothing but smoke and emptiness,
boulders of rocks with not a tree to accentuate the final scene of survival,
or a moss to tell me that life still exist
on a creek without a single dew on its priceless pebble,
know what? i am happy today to know that you are still there
so far away like an undiscovered distant planet that the light years
have not known yet to measure
i know that somehow we share the same madness.
Poetry.
know what? Be happy too.
I have someone else.
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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