Gather your thoughts
Endless rambler
The dust motes dance
Erratically, gaming: (in your mind)
as the morning sunlight
comes streaming into the room
And the open window brings
in the sound of the trash collectors
And the newspaper boys, as
You sit and knit and think
Of moral issues and conjure
up hallucinatory ideas.
Slowly
You begin
To
Crumble as one by
Slowly one
Your thoughts
Diminish
Into twilight
And
No more can you see
And lucidly
You
Seek out the dark shadows
Of the night, wandering
in the uniformity of endless circles,
scratching for your existence in
the timeless alleys
of your mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow, I really enjoyed this poem. Well done! ~ Ray