The more you love

The more you grow

The more you care

The more you know

The more you give

The more returns

The more it hurts

The more it burns.

Writing poetry for me is like fishing in the wind:
You shoot your arrow-net into the air
and after many failures you snag an ugly bird
that you make beautiful the more you see
that it really resembles you.

if I could hear
every sound

I would pick up
your whispers

and your sighs
and hold them

like beautiful
flowers ignoring

everything else
in nature

knowing nothing
else is beautiful

to me

nothing carried
forward we

have no memory

at the beginning
we are beginners

everything is
strange and new

we have no names

for anything
or anyone

we can run
and hide and

wait for others
or we can

venture out
on our own

and be the
first to die

or to discover