What beauty is there,
To share and care,
By a poke, -the master stroke.
A recall and a reminding,
Of the psychic tie,
That did not die.
More to say than apparent pay,
A herald of the true self,
All affirmation, never a nay.
The magic flash of a reverie,
Somewhat a gem from treasured closet,
A fresh air to soothe in one's unrest.
Poke! poke! poke!
Scatter your willows from boundless Unconscious,
Stimulate, regenerate, redeem, -with a poke's touch!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem