In This Poem Poem by RIC BASTASA

in this poem when i speak
about myself in sadness
actually i speak about the
sadness of the whole world,

from a mole i move to the mountain
from one apple we move from the apple to one
and one is intangible
and one is invicible
and one is universal

like a fan with many fingers
but it is the fan of the world

so when i speak about a woman
on love unrequited i may start with a name
like a rose, or a woman named Helen of Troy
or just a plain Maria
whose sadness is as specific as
my own sadness but when it is written in poetry
and read by everyone
Maria is lost what is taken in is the sadness of the world

it is just like us: there is no ric anymore or a candice or
anyone else but just the universal man
the universal woman

because the poem is an expression of the world
unto itself
we become mere specks of dusts
sands of time's cannister