early morning the house is as silent
as a feather falling
on the floor
the cat wakes up and checks
what it is
it is like him, silent as a cat
silent as his master
not wanting to wake up
no one boils the water
to make a smell of coffee in the air
time drags like a snail
convoluted like some thoughts
like Hamlet's
to be or
not to be
it happens most of the time
fate resolves itself
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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