IMAGES

 There Ends the Journey of Wisdom 

 

 

From the finishing point of seasons
Images write;
for the washed off shores
for the footsteps which lost its rhythm..
Rekindled not a belief
Softened not a silent impolite ego
From the confinement cells
words arrive in fine filters
From shadows to the banyan tiaras
Images in subtle earthen hues format life..

Finish..
Finish…
Who whispers near the eastern dawn?
Images stand in concurrence to write
against the flag post of chiseled egos..

In washed off shores, In sea shells,
Images grow beyond the vastness of a flag post
Where peace shatters
crushing green olives of Parthenon
there falls the flag post
there scatter seasons
there fall the last exclamation mark..
there ends the journey of wisdom..
Finished… isn’t?

IT WAS NOT A DREAM

 

 


Once
I looked upon a majestic hill near Kedar
Years rolled on seasons
and it  was raining in gardens
while i was in my eastern sea shores
i watched the hill falling
like a paper pillar,
It wasn't a dream
it was floating in front of me
grounded, as if to finish off
its own rude rancor....

THAT IS ALL WHAT I SAID



Your invasions
you  charted as great events..
Your prejudice
you glorified as wisdom

On the day of leftist invasion
you came out of your silent chamber
to speak about  ignominy and disgrace..

Your chase
you believed as march past
Opposite reverberations 
you called out as conspiracy..

In your test sheet,
In your prejudice
you devalued earthen elements...

Wisdom of earth was  pure like nectar;
Wisdom, you painted was adulterated..

That is all what i said
when events cascaded
along the rain....