Foreword
To the reader,
I am not a poet
For I am just me.
A collection of thoughts in close vicinity.
Lay your ears down flat on these pages
Let every word vibrate through year drums
So that the quivering reaches your heart.
And let the quivering become a thunder.
When it becomes unbearable put it aside
let your body resonate it out for a while
don't make yourself chase it
take your time
until year drums are again ready to face it.
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And thank you for your support.
My remuneration is at its peak
when these words echo in your head
reverberating through out your body,
back to me, and the gaze of our mountain eyes
meet
and start
touching
because
Touching
Touching You
Touching You Feels
Touching You Feels good
Touching You Feels galvanising
Touching You Feels
Touching You
Touching
Me.
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This is dedicated to every
sapiens, erectus, deus.
Be it homo, hetero, in between or outwardly.
YOU ARE READING
My Life, A Canvas.
PoetryForeword This poem is about adapting to change, adjusting alterations, remodeling redesigns, reshaping modifications, and about recognizing reorientation. Over the last few decades, we've experienced peak globalisation. Unfettered global trade a...
