Blinded by sorrow, yet still able to see the designs
and patterns in rhythm, translating them incessantly
into poems.
Feeling the freedom of an individual independence as
it soars into the liberty set within poetry, always
striving forward into avenues of life.
Being open to intellect as it continues to blossom
exponentially and completely, never tiring of being
creatively spiritual and filled with happiness.
Extreme expectations of sublime concentration while
writing, stretching imagination, filling it with the
reality of life.
Letting it change or alter perspectives at will, never
being surprised to find immense differences in thought
processes, catching hold of their elements when writing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I find writing does all that for me too. A piece that only a true poet could have conceived and written