the leaves have fallen
now in heaps on the common ground
leveling,
let us go back to all those old places
where we once were young
watched by our
strict parents
we gathered all the leaves on rakes
and crates
we make heaps of those dried leaves
we burned them all
we saw the smoke passing through the thick leaves
of those mango trees
exited through those twigs
we saw all of them as smoke rising to the white skies
white against white
do you remember what did we really see?
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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