you know so many things,

a life as encyclopaedia-

replete and full, names and dates,

the surgical precision of


yet the scalpel turns

against its master- NO GODS

NO MASTERS, the anarchist cries and so

brings them into being

(the other

against which his


is assured).

And the lover who  has lost

his love, who believes the union is

the All,

he lives too in celluloid and books.

they are tributaries

and there is no river, so nothing can cease

to flow

and he would swim against the current

and call it        drowning

and examine

the process of

treading water.

these are the fools of the world.

who cling

and name and


who do not sense or in sensing

reject it.

put away instruments, quiet the cries

of freedom

and let everything radiate

absent of demand

and expectation.

all things dissipate,


the egg must hatch and the bird

must take flight

and feed and birth and die.

and in between is

all that matters

for a clenched fist

cannot hold or crying

eyes behold.

putting away clever things,

demands and concessions.


over here


outside and


the sea glistens, resplendent with

sun, the sun

that will


and rise


giving the earth unselfishly

to the moon.

who cares what origins and extinctions?

there never was this


and poetry is simply this;

the witnessing of the glory of the world.


4 Responses to “thus”

  1. Quite a fine poem and thought provoking in its message.

  2. beautiful

  3. 4 dronemodule

    Thank you Pablo!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: