this is the middle of the journey
there are many more mirages
illusions to uncover, deaths to conquer,
more time is devoted to filtering doubts,
decanting those seemingly insignificant
experiences, purifying the adulterated
legacies of great human thoughts,
digesting the chunks of abrupt and
wholesale misgivings, powdering those
less understood, mixing with mercury
to extract the gold in those passing years,
poisoning the mind, destroying everything
unacceptable, dissolving failures,
subjective processes, finally getting nothing
but kernels, a little chaff, on the petri dish
inoculated bacteria, tested with fire,
eyes gazing at the clouds from the window
of the sixth floor.
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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