THE moon can be as beautiful
as its silence
as she tiptoes on the skin of the river
or she can be cruel
stabbing you with the sharpness of its stainless light
your guilt conniving in killing that innocence
of your
original mind
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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