Tracing lines of rhythm into deep recesses of being,
watching auras filling me with their beauty, filled
from rainbow's arches and given in many visions.
Matching them with images coming right into sight,
taking me always into landscapes that will go onto
ends of our horizons, leaving us bereft and alone.
Yet, it is a good feeling of isolation, never marring
emotions, only adding to them on many levels,
containing them in spheres of twilight.
Anchoring all of them in a desert of beautiful
destinations, collecting everything on plateaus of
individual consideration, using levels of intellect
on many different dimensions.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem