Life is within us, hiding it's face,
knowing it's place.
Eyes looking outward, focusing on
nature and the environment, seeing
the beauty and ugliness sitting on
hills of abuse.
There are no fantasies, is reality real?
Are there any answers to the questions
hiding inside?
Are we pretending to be someone else
without, all the while living the life
we are within, silently, gracefully,
to it's eventual end.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem