The Creek

Standing tall as I lay by a babbling dry creek

I gaze endlessly with limited time into the still darkness of a dazzeling lighted pool

Thoughtlessy mindful of every sound of my silent surroundings

I drift away to places unknown, yet known, to  ponder the meaning of my life

Sudden bursts of dark light moisten the still air of the noisy, calm darkness

"Who's there'" I called out with silent voice to disembodied solidness

Suddenly I realize, a few hours later,  that life is just an illusion

As I lay standing by the babbling, silent, dry creek

My mind became crystal clear as muddy water...I found my answer

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Where are Beautiful Ones?

Ugonna Wachuku


Nothing seems real.

Not even your face.

Not even your tears

and laughter.   


Silent voices are


Everything is


Everyone is


Even you.


Streams and waterfalls

are silent, too.

Also, love is silent; 

if you know what

I mean. 


My heartbeat is

silent for the

first time.

Now, I must rise

and go to your

beckoning, silent



Drumbeats from deep

forests of home sound

no more because we are

all silent.  


We have entered the

time of no return

in starring faces of

newly born souls.

Now is the time to

take up our mats

and search for love. 


Let us head for

silent rivers and


Let us meet nature

in the day's

refreshing silence.  


Let us stand



In nothingness.

Let us bleed from

wounds by these

fragrant roses.  


Let us search for 

beautiful ones.

Let us ask where 

beautiful ones






Days are short. 

Nightfall must

not meet us

because there

will be no



So, let us rise; 

and in the silence

of our bountiful

hearts, search for  

beautiful ones

because we can.   


(c) Ugonna Wachuku: 2000