Riding whispers, she said to me
ghosts of the past were never meant to be
more than lessons learned...eventually.
Ashes of fires once raged,
now cooled in passionless pools
and promises frayed.
Time can only define what you let
and forward will only reverse with regret.
Senses willed to savor,
savor the slow simmer,
savor the spark that led to the glimmer
that led to the burn.
Return the salve of senses, now defenses.
Words with no weight
hovering, fluttering
like lies that fly, that wingless vice -
under the weight of gravity
truth be told.
Its all insanity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem