I of mine own self, nothing can do.
I think myself something I am a fool.
Because this worlds not as it seems,
The dreamer alone dreaming his dreams.
Working his way to no place in time.
Riding this illusion should be a crime.
Coasting through life as it seems to be,
Needing some answers planted in me.
The planted seed strugles for life.
Encumbered by work and daily strife.
Dormant I lay waiting for You.
Come unlock Your treasures tried and true.
With patience and love quick shall I grow,
And Into the world grace will flow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem