it is easier to let things be,
leave others as they are, and just
be the best that i am, amidst,
the chaos, the fire that burns
the city, the children whose shouts
for help fades like a ship that sinks
swallowed in one instant by the
ocean house of tidal waves,
it is easier to see how suffering
munches the innocence of
the crowd, and tell yourself, who cares?
they deserve their fates, i have mine,
i am alone, and happier
but it cannot be, i am part of this suffering
these grunts and rants,
i am part of the picture
and when the whole picture is blotted
out by one stroke of
my indifference, i am, too
blotted just the same.
and so, i must, i can,
i do care.
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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