last night i dreamed of caterpillars
there were caterpillars everywhere
they were crawling in my stomach
they were eating leave in my hair
they were munching at my pilloe
they were circling on my head
they were cleaning up their mouths
as they spin silk in my bed
they were on the chairs and table
they were climbing the chandeliers
they were making cocoons in the corners
they were linking in my ears
there were caterpillars, caterpillar, caterpillars
for as far as i could see...
when i woke up today, i noticed,
there were butterflies on top of me
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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