The birth of a poem...

The essence of very tiny detail, like a carefully placed comma, or an invisible sigh of admiration, distilled into dewdrops sliding over the long green leaves that protect tulips from overexposure, redeeming the beautiful bold color and adding a dimension of its own.

Then letting it go into thin air, like a weightless particle,arriving in far-away places, like a carefully thought-out idea, a blissful singular event, a flash of infinitesimal brightness, arriving at noon, completely negating shadows and at the same time completely absolving them.

The reign of calm arrived with these words and it is here to stay...

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Ancient Wisdom

Buried under layers of modern ambitions.
Left to archaeologists to ponder.
Excavating symbols and searching for meanings.
Frowned upon.
Lost geometry. Lost faith. Lost hopes.
They did things differently back then.
And their ideals were excruciatingly high.
No such faith today.  The neon prevents the sky
From giving us the stars and the constellations.
We’re urban children, trapped in the myth of now.
And the old roots go away.
We try to remember, the collective subconscious
Awakens something, a stir of an echo from far away.
The old wisdom is simple. Eternal. Written in stone.
It’s not their fault that we forget.
We manipulate and create shortcuts
To represent our own truths and convenient stories
To tell the pillows in the empty beds.
The children won’t believe.
It’s easy to deceive a floating soul.
And thus everything flows away.
The arrow of time takes it away.
Never looking back.
Forgotten wisdom.

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