Guided by the debris
Of past cyclones and storms
Following a trail of trash
Tangled in the thread of lies;
Like a ghost that appear
When no one is near
Living on borrow time;
And just listening to my own breathing;
It's only when I sleep,
I see the ghost disappearing
Debris clearing, trash barreled
Untangled truth
Living on my own time
No longer laying still
Listening to my own breathing
Reasons to live and dream
An urge to move on
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem