my bed is cold, my pillows too my blanket not taking the heat of my body the window of my room is open to the brightness of the moon tonight i wish to hear the sound of familiar steps on the bamboo leaves |
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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