Sitting like every moment is the first one,
The ineffable center of the spokes of time.
The air that was of magic, that contained no chemical names-
Clothed me in childlike nature, and spoke to me in riddles and games.
The wonderful, glittery .. Cancer filled, jittery.
What is this cycle of anonymous names,
amongst what have I been born?
Cubical jobs and mechanical rich snobs.
Look: We contain something within us..
-Of it I could not speak-
But climb to the wilderness mountain like the rest of them did..
Behold my brothers and sisters the divine mountain still speaks!

I did not start posting poetry here to enter a game
I know I will not be popular
Writing poems has always brought my heart pleasure
It is not for self fame
For me scripting rhymes is a searing treasure
If you do not care for my prose
It is fine
For some reason I did not strike your fancy, who knows?
Scroll down to the next poem
I pray you relish what you see
The fact is the wonder of human culture is variety