Don't forget
    your way home
    after your travel
    wide and long-
    nothing out there
    can compare to
   where your heart
  does belong-

   scenes you've absorbed
   how soon they will be gone!

   Trust not your senses
   your fancies do reality distort
   your memory will be short
   your fancies will fade along-

   your way home
   never should you forget
  your garden has since bloomed
  waiting for you to celebrate-
  let home-coming be your beloved song!

I'm glad, really so
to be quickly forgotten-
as such I owe no one
any obligation

I choose disbelief
over belief-
the latter is likely
to cause grief

I once thought
   I did understand
    but now realise
    I am ignorant

We poets never cease to travel, but each in their own direction.

The aim is the same--to explore, discover, understand and to learn the meaning of life and living, and in the process, hopefully, to transmit something worthwhile and beautiful to the world at large.

Is it true
most of us
don't know
our true selves?

if we were birds
we wouldn't know
we had wings-

if we were fish
we wouldn't know
we could swim-

if we were clouds
we wouldn't know
we could float-

if we were flowers
or plants, we wouldn't know
we could grow-

is it true
most of us
are partially blind
to ourselves?

We are moments
and players
in the somewhere of time
but can't presage
the outcome-
life is the jungle
thickest, darkest, wildest
and most mysterious-
shadows are ubiquitous
light is rarely seen
or felt around-

we are absorbed
into the web of time
unprepared, innocent
untutored, inexperienced
in our ignorance-
all that we can do
is to watch and accept-

we and time
have no covenant
to come together
or to agree
with each other-

the language
we each speak
is incomprehensible
to the other-

we meet somewhere
and then move in the flow
to the next unknown sphere