Clapping to inner rhythms, giving an energy born from innate talent.
Causing major designs to be brought into perspective and held close to my heart as I continually move further away from life.
Stilling depths of sorrow, watching it turn into prayers of death, suicidal ideals continually being produced with a finality of rejoicing.
At last a taste of interior breath, helping me to expire and attend my demise in silent undertakings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem