how evasive has fate been with me
now that i have given up what i have in mind
i have become a traveler without a destination
i have no intention of stopping somehow in this confusion
all those years are just a matter of intuition permeating
as
i, the passive weaver, denied, and and still keep on waiting.
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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