now they will tell me
to appease my deep sorrow
that the beloved has become
a part of everything
that after all
nobody is gone
that the beloved has become
dew, a glint of snow,
the flower in bloom
the sea and its waves
the sand and the dunes
can't believe it
the beloved is wrapped in the hands
of another
happy around the arms
of the beguiler
am not comforted at all
got to find other solutions
other than
poetic illusions
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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