i have found them, the things that cannot be lost
education, and patience,
my steady face...inside my room,
the mirror that looks at me
always, these eyes
i shall always keep what treasures i found
you, and myself, that time so luckily gives
our lips, our bodies, our mouths
we never exchange them for anything
we found what we deserve: the poetic existence
of these beings.
that stare and droll, these eyes, these hands.
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment