Though the mind can wonder for many years,
yet to wonder with purpose!

Lost between light and shade,
when meaning tends to noise -
yet birds sing.

Get of my chest demon,
what strange door you enter my dream:
where did you find the key to come in!

In reply to a comment about the painting used in the previous post.

Arntzenius, Floris Spuistraat Den Haag Sun.

His paintings capture stillness in motion.

I was thinking in the poem of how people pass each other by, and I wanted a snapshot through words, though not verbalizing but being intricate. The poem also has a personal nature, for it is also about how we hunger for attention. The second style used in the poem is about things passing us by; for I am interesting with the idea that it may take somebody 30 years to understand a simple truth. So here the idea is truth – which may pass us by us, under a ceratin disguise, as we may be in treaty with something that distracts us away, or making us dumb to truth.

If anybody else wants an explanation of another poem, you are welcome.

Background

I wondered what this painting is called, Judi
Posted 1/29/2006 at 11:34 AM by jasmine

What thought passes by,
what person goes past:
and what feeling goes by.

Justice, faith, and hope:
another 3 that past most people too,
yet I may pass you!

How low can they go?
But who is looking?

How high can they go?
If passion be my fuel!

Where is the play?
Where is the simple trust?
Where is the acceptance?
Where is the passive?

Creep to me, my heart:
for temptations, greet.

Such are our needs,
and people seek,
like creeping specimens.

Wisdom lays somewhere lost,
and spirit seems lost:
into the river I GO again.

So much is,
and muck it is not:
in endless dreams,
from local to foreign
in shallow mess.

What do we trust,

In the tragedy of deathly politeness.

Where is what?
Places, more than words,
But places are words!