Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Goxo - 016



Reapest

like an illness of a wish,

leading only to directions,

before the place that can't be seen

stands tall the wall so clearly felt.

light is shed, if dim or brightly

over places known so well.

if by choice or only slightly

it's this light to lead the way.

English? I don't know, I don't care, it's an impulse poetry coming basically nearly out of nowhere and therefore with a certain authority that I respect for some reason. As my success in changing life's rhythm to normal hours begins fading again, my morning sketches turn into afternoon sketches again. But at least I feel like I could be in control. A very welcome illusion!

1 Comments:

Blogger burcu said...

loved your poem, and the Goxo - 018. are you turkish?

5:26 AM  

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