one's fixed finally
like a fly
on that sticky paper
unable to remove
its legs from
those limitations
the wings are useless
the winds are of no help
the wings of the the mind
cannot uplift
where the body is stuck
with the connivance
of the pelvis
and the hands
dichotomy...
that gap between the
flesh and spirit
must be dovetailed
by a prayer of mercy
the faith that makes
us sleep
when the eyes are
too weary
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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