Nothing beautiful is ever lost, it lives in
our minds for eternity, the first time so-
mething happens it is already only a
mental exercise, however real it
seems, thereafter it lives on in a
separate realm for evermore
I used to cry over beautiful things until
I discovered how to return to the place
in my mind where the memory shines
as reality – now I’m not afraid anymore,
I return to my favourite books and as
they relive again, so does every event
I love dreaming up a storm, taking the
vision which has the same validity as
experience with me - the reason why
I never read stories I don’t want a
role in, of course, it will take too
long to eradicate…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very nice and own writing about reading a story.........Thank you for yur kind sharing.