In an unmasterable world, Searching for certainty, Doubts hunt the platoons of rehearsals. In the thought, Rehearsals chase the doubts in a circle, Servant of algorithms, Life is reduced, The scheduling of rituals, exact sequencings; Illusions of master; Routines of bees, Humanity departs, The center holds with iron bars of ceremonies, Symbolic caricatures of order,…

I have become the fancied father of hundreds of men, And for a fee, I have offered certainty, To the bewildered, in a world of more-or less ness and ambiguity, More often; I was set as the point man, For half-forgotten, hurts and the focus of fantasies half-realized. I was showered with reawakened rancors and…

He jumped the fences of our Tribe’s heart from the start. and there he stayed the years. -A faithful chronicler of our happenings and unfolding- His white body a moving shimmering Igloo. in the northern light. Yesterday, as the allotment for his kind came up, He died in his sleep, dreaming of the Tundra. Now his…

Oh why, why, why I can’t sleep at night? I can’t stop thinking how you brought the laughter and then the cry Oh is this love? the steering inside? the long hours at night? the moments of the kiss! The longing thirst for the next sight? I felt your love was perfect so were you…

Did I request, thee Maker, from my clay To mold Me man? Did I solicit thee From darkness to promote me…? three lines from Milton ‘s “Paradise Lost” bellow what he left out, Did, thee Maker, bestow Reason upon the clay? Demanding Me, unreasoning faithful slave? Demanding glory, As being Maker does not satisfy only?

At night I stare at the abyss of the sky: The myriads of the quivering stars, like multicolored opals, are Beckoning me. With them, I stare at the Eternity. All So far away, the fingers of my imagination cannot reach. For millions their image:  echoes of themselves, Eons after their Valhallas. The enormity of my…

A man as he is playing a violin, An Oriole chirping, A Lassie as she is dancing; The harmony of the world! A woman as she is giving birth, A doe as she is running, The almond tree as it is blooming in January; The strength! Two young ones as they are making love, A…

Captive of the routines, encircled with iron bars of habits, – Cocoons of tightly woven threads, – the spirit rebels. The “ghost in the machine” groans, raising its hands upward, To escape from the imperatives; Algorithms, imprinted from the time of Homo erectus, And Chimps, Identical ceremonies and schedules, – Automatisms, clothes in the garments…

Bent studiously with encyclopedic intensity over x’s and y’s, And such, Unaware of time squandered, The yearnings inside; coiled springs, And the sunsets she does not witness? The lovely places she does not visit? The intimacies she does not share? And the whispers of the heart she does not pause to listen? Fulfillments postponed, “Do…

The intimacy of the landscape, the slow tempo, the fragrant breezes, the tides’ ebb and flow, – a tick-tock in the rhythm of life-; feed an instinct in us: yearning for the sea. Now the ambience envelops you like a cocoon, separating you from the quick pace you have left behind. You are now free…