Pivoted around the Keeper,
My walk is but limited to the length of the leash,
That forms the radius of the circular domain,
At best I walk its peripheries or inhabit the area within,
Never a tangent break free,
For my stride is but limited to the Keeper's moves,
Or the latitude he affords or ill,
Regardless if its breadth karma decides,
Captive, always at heel,
I am but an arm's length away,
Ready to be roped in,
At any such time of his choosing,
When the noose will inevitably be tightened,
The only certain!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem