Can’t see the wood

Wood. Graphic: DWV

Can’t see the wood


Today is as beautiful 

as static electricity;

quiet, seemingly inert,

but it contains shocking information:

to be alive

requires you to be never at rest.


You are a small river

flowing, never stopping.


This day is an empty glass

filled to the brim with potential.

Bring the two poles

of your thumb and index finger

together on your pen,

and electric words start flowing.


One of them tumbles away,

rolling awkwardly over its sharp edges – love.


You want to pick it up

and put it in its place,

but it is still too hot.


How to make sense of all this?


Just keep feeling your way

around the gnarled trees of knowledge.

One day, not this one,

you will see the wood.

About kruger01

Poet, author, translator Grandfather of five. Bonsai grower.
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