POINT
OF
REFERENCE
The Path of the Flame
It was pictures and cards
from a faraway voyage of familiar faces.
John,
below the statue of Liberty,
absorbs within the frame her left side
and part of her face.
Helen, on the right, below the torch,
Johann before her.
And many more names, in various languages,
races, come together around the Statue,
each one to claim their own share
of the light-shade and return
to their homeland.
Only a few reflections, pieces
of the Whole Light, to each one,
respectively, to each one alone.
The Poet
marches toward freedom.
Freedom marches toward the Divine.
The Poet has conquered the Whole,
he has conquered the Light.
The Poet opens, closes his eyes, he sees
the visible and the invisible of the cosmos.
Shapes, the anomate, the inanimate.
Names, bodies and spirits.
In his eyes the Light from Above
that transforms itself into Beauty,
that does not remain hidden
in a dark, dragon-guarded cave,
that lingers in the air,
on the wing of a butterfly,
in the iridescence of a drop,
in the waves of a lock of hair.
In the carved wrinkle of a grandmother
that used to sing you to sleep.
The Poet opens the eyes of his soul.
numb feelings, worn out words
he joins them in harmony, with his music, he creates.
The Light he absorbed now radiates.
The Light blinds; we need ...
The Light blinds; we need eyes
and poetry. -Niki Pontika