blank, it is blank at first.
suspect, there is nothing, there is no one.
wait. there is a hush.
there is a shadow coming.
wait. there is a word.
it is a bean sprouting
last night placed
on top of
a sack wet by the rain
of tears.
i hear the sounds of syllables.
no figuring of meanings this time.
just hearing a sound
of life.
it is enough. I am not scared anymore
to the question: is there life here?
the windows begin to open
and lights are turned off.
good morning.
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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