writing a poem
less the consciousness of
writing one
less the limelight
less the hope that
sooner you will be as
famous as a rock
star
that soon you will be
chased by a multitude of
fans asking for
your miraculous
fish and bread
and that jug of wine
on a wedding day,
(am i lost somewhere
in this chain of thoughts?
let me go back again)
writing a poem
with all spontaneity
without the expectation
that soon some publisher
would ask for
your poems for publication
upon a hefty
royalty,
is, and this is the final
clinch,
is very very easy.
well, i am not really
lost, i find my way back
again,
to a dream, to a cozy
surrender, for at most
it has nothing to do with
admiration,
listen, listen, it has
something to do with a healing,
with a cure.
a therapy, for an illness,
for another episode of your
loneliness
walking inside a tunnel
dark and cold
and going down and then up
wanting to find an exit
an outburst of light
blinding.
Leave a Reply