Prescience of this mind filters into the intellect
of it's eye, factually searching, finding locations
of tender, complacent thoughts tucked securely away.
Nothing really mattering as life continues to fold
and hide beneath gray skies, covering earth.
Slowly and covertly, sending images and visions onto
photographic screens where the only one who can see
them is a mere poet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem