If poetry is painting your moments on the canvas of your heart, if poetry is your soul taking you to where your body is incapable of traveling but your soul gallops to with no limits, then, this is my lot. My lot of touching life through expressing feelings that can be dreams, or can this limit be a dream? A nightmare? A mirage? If my seeing my right foot entering the pond of fresh water while a swan is passing by peacefully, if the first touch of water bursts life in me, if I can inhale the wild herbs the fresh greenery the wet forest, then, this has to be a poem. Maybe not professional with the choice of words, grammar or structure. But the swan that was passing, the water lilies, the colorful butterfly on the violet, the playful robin, the poetry in this raving silence, and God, no, none of them care. So this is my lot. I bless it and thank it and leave the "naming" to you.
Hydeh Aubon (1/19/08)
