Riding into the moment
with pen ablaze
past-future on the hunt
Fear taking a seat
across the fire
begging for what it wants
A bugle blows
the sun retreats
twin enemies approach
Upon whose sleeves
my heart is laid
—in doubt the morning cloaked
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April,2015)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem