Has the Wind stop blowing?
said the frog with fearful croaks

Can you hear not its whispers to the tree?
Can you feel not how it moves it to the roots? Asked the ant.

To which the frog with a jumped replied,
Croak! I hear the winds,
But I also feel how the trees
shake in fear.

In a moment, a bird came flying by and while fluttering its wings said:

I hear not
I see not

But I feel the Wind, its gentle touch.
I feel the wind, it's refreshing love.
I simply feel that there's nothing to be afraid of.

To which the ant replied,

That's because if your tree were to fall,
If your ground were to be Shaken up,
with your wings, a blessing of The Lord,
you can fly anywhere else
and find yourself a home.


....

To be continued

Is it possible God...
That we are like flour being sifted?

Has this flour of ours
been sitting upon the sifter of time
just sifting the clumps
that accumulated from keeping
the flour of ours
unmoving for a long time?

Must, we, be in a constant movement?

Could it be...
That each of us is a particle of that flour,
separating evenly, removing the lumps,
So that we all, together, could be baked
into a perfect loaf of bread?

Or could it be...
that each of us is like a package of flour
that must be sifted?

February 26, 2015

Do you know why you love her poems so much?
Because just like you, she is a beginner,
There isn't much quality in her poems for you to chew,
She feeds her readers purée,
Yum, no doubt,
But I as a reader prefer to chew
And put these teeth of mine
to some used

a pen wobbles
at the edge of a wooden desk
yearning for a hand

Love, you are like a bee,
You make my heart buzz and buzz,
Until I work to make honey,
That I won't even eat

I met the sword on my saddle today
I took it out
And I swayed it to the air
As if with its sharpness, it could cut
even the oxygen that you breathe,

But too foolish, I was,
to just swayed it and swayed it to the air,
I should have kept it in the saddle,
And just breathe the air

February 24, 2015

I breathe in. I breathe out.
I don't seem to understand life.
I'm sleepier than ever.
I crave a place to rest.
But I'm young. Younger than most.
Yet I feel old. Tired.
Rusty of living. But I'm happy.
I'm content with what I have.
I have Nothing yet everything I need.

Though sometimes I crave more
of what I don't need,
For instance, more sleep.
But I had enough, I should awake
And live my life

For out there, there is a place to enjoy.
And I have everything I need,
Yet nothing to lose.

What am I waiting for?