there is no such thing as done
everything is always unfinished
you think a bud dies, it does not
you think that the twig that you cut
remains cut
like a dead end of the road
that is always not the case
you think that the body of the man that we buried
is all that is,
that is not the real case
a story shall be borne it gives a bud and a twig another start
a poem is written it marks a new understanding
and the grain of sand becomes another planet
a drift wood becomes another one's dream of a bridge
it is not just the seed it is also the covering
not just the ring that you see but another one's marriage
a view can be immortalized in a painting
or even when the painting rots itself all colors cracking
there is always something that remains unsaid
it is
what is always unfinished
the one that we know but which we never uttered
the one we uttered but which we start to doubt and not really know
oh it is like a wheel of a bicycle
like the ring that you keep on wearing
like a hemisphere that you have traveled
over and over
as though you have known
it forever
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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