Labrynth filled
with mysteries
who knows what
I'll uncover
the good
the evil
a new euphoria
a wallowing pit
of despair
Will I discover
treasures of gold
or dead roses
rotting in the air.?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Succinctly poweful, and graphic...compendious in substance...Life holds no guarantees aside from the fact that those who breathe oxygen today...one day no longer will...Solid work, young lady...Keep that pen pumping! ~ F j R ~ _2008_