i watch a bon fire
it spreads upon a bush
into the forest of
dry trees
i watch a conflagration
i am inside it
i am burning and burning
still
i am not consumed
i am fire
i eat the forest of dry trees
i spread in the bush
until all is consumed
and then i stop
i am back to myself
nothing really happened
then we resume the conversation
about fire
you speak about it
your heart is not involved
you never felt any heat
i know because you are cold
there is no heat in you
you, in a few minutes, die.
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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