i do not wish to have a halo
above my head
this early morning
angel,
just be invincible
i have always maintained this in
my mind
i am better in this
frail body, these brittle bones,
these tiny fingers
society gives respect to
the kindness of feigned weakness
the humility of
having to appear like a hollow tree
as i step out of the door
i take the shape of this pigeon
the messenger of soft wings
whiter intentions
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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