Uh,
forever.
It seems so far away,
but in a flash of an eye-
a blink,
the world turns into.
The trees become clouds of fog,
the sky turns into water,
and the ground turns solid pillows.
My appearence-
it is not the same.
Every description must be illaborated
in this world.
The smell,
like when you awake from a bears hibronation-
the first breath for a newborns lungs-
the last heartbeat of an elderly.
The colors,
faded as a paint brush getting soaked with dirty water in a bucket-
smooth as a deer's furr in the late summer-
and as warm as the locked air inside a plastic bag.
And as the tempature changes,
the water turns to a lighter blue-
a softer rage-
a supple drift,
the fog has glimpses of stars from a far distance-
the rain colapsing in one section-
the lightning that gives off light,
and the pillows at my feet that lay me down to rest-
for a soft,
goodnight's rest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem