Today one visited Delphi and the Temple of Apollo. One feels closer to the primal essence of human civilisation in such a place and the enigmatic words spoken by the Pythia remind one much of the purity of concept expressed in Haiku.
The white purity
Of my poetical soul
A flower petal
Weighted down under raindrops
Fighting hourly temptation
I wondered, lonely and so proud
My thoughts so high, oe’r window sills
When all at once I was endowed
With views through neighbour’s curtain frills.
I glimpsed the barest hint of skin
As through my bedroom blinds I’d peek.
To speculate who was within
The electoral roll didst seek.
I glimpsed again and flesh did see
That lofted oe’r sleek curves and tan
But then Mama did answer me:
“Moons? That new neighbour? It’s a man.”
So yet I peer the blinds between
And linger on the vision there
The secret seer, sight unseen
So it’s a man? I could not care!
The primal scream in my Underpants
As I caress my own Pomposity
Can be heard Echoing
In the emptiness that is My Cranium
I speak of the Mythologies as the Harpies
Gather their dead Syllable by Syllable
Where is your