Bursting from prisons of irreconcilable difference,
expanding existing thoughts, careening into the future.
Tables set with pens and paper, prepared for the onset
of writing.
Pouring forth faster than the pen will flow, poetry a-
boundingly growing beyond all expectation, soaring along
with the music of Chopin's knowledge.
Hearing difficult patterns and intricate melodies, follow-
ing the beat in writing, astounding even myself at times.
Tripping, stumbling, taking care to write everything I hear,
peace and serenity placed within, a contemplation deep and
private.
Answering no one, denying life living outside me, entering
the holiness of self.
Appreciation for the divine in me, standing on rose colored
horizons of middle-age, watching blueness of eternal heaven
coming slowly to greet and take all I have been to an ever-
lasting home of love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem