My Poems

[Not a poem but a thought fragment]   Like a little kid Who broke open the kaleidoscope To discover, to his disappointment, That the intricate patterns inside Were just the reflections on the mirrors Of the boring world outside The self Broke open the mind To discover, to its dispassion, That the intricate patterns inside Were just the reflections on the senses Of the inactive world outside

On a carpet of fallen leaves Stands a tree clothed with ripe old leaves  That all look the same, wavering in the cool breeze ...  Suddenly, one of them begins to fall. How unique its fall! Gently, gently Twirling, gently It moves down The leaf moves The wind moves The earth moves The mind moves What is it really? The moment it hits the ground It is part of the fall carpet; They all look the same From oneness to oneness Journeys the autumn leaf With its fall.