when he goes out into the world
there are no arms waiting
it is loneliness that walks with him
so he decided to stay and close the
doors and windows
thinking that in this way the world
will love him as others expect
the rope of loneliness chokes him
and so he prepares to go back into the open
he dresses well enough to face the wind
and dance with the shadows
they demand that he tells him his real name
and not wear a mask and sing the usual song
he refuses to cater to a brutality
he goes back to his room and reads a book
and closed the door again
and he grows up into a very strong silence
confident upon the soundless nook and
expects no one to call his name again
at the end he learns this game of
responsible loneliness
the one that does not speak when hurt
that does not smile even when seduced by joy
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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