A CRY FOR FREEDOM © 2008

Poems have neither beginning nor end,

They are eternal in their fluid essence,

Only a means, where words,

Dance in the realm of doubt,

Questioning the reason of being both no and yes.

Each verse is a fragment of the whole,

An incessant search for meaning,

An echo of unanswered questions,

That dwell in uncontrollable silence.

It is in the midst that poetry breathes,

Where words meet and part ways,

Challenging time, challenging space,

To explore what in us burns and persists.

There is no clear beginning, nor conclusion,

Only the continuous flow of creation,

Where yes and no coexist,

In an eternal dance of contemplation.

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