Alone in a deserted crowd of ideas, playing
imagination's game with interest and sublime
concentration.
Following images closely guarded by subconscious
whims and fancies, poking through to anticipatory
feelings of hope and joy.
Lying fitfully in chaise lounges from yesterday's
lifetime, awaiting differences to procure words
and sentences, diffidently hiding interiorly without
doubts or qualms of any interference.
Whole lifetimes ride on winds of fate, allowing one
to alight and live abundantly at times.
Always watching, looking over edges of creativity
into abysses of decorated imagination, waiting to
be discovered and used in poems for destiny's
illumination into infinity from yesterday.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem