Odd components fit abstractly together with the aid of
cognitive functions on darkened corners of thought.
Bereaved memories, hiding from sight, yet are felt
intensely, especially when alone at night.
Solo journeys, traveling beyond our vision, continually
forging ahead without a thought of origin.
Partaking of minced particles on sidewalks of eternity,
joining beatitudes of incessant bliss.
Forgotten pathways, overgrown with weeds, being hacked
and hewn on deserted islands of ideas.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem