Collecting the shells of experience and opening them, just
to see what has been picked up and chosen to take with me.
Tears being held in some pools of ancient parlors, awaiting
their times of fruition.
Tackling possibilities of every opportunity, reliving the
memories that have already been lived a thousand times over
through the years.
Rivers rising, thought flowing rapidly downstream, into
placid waters of tomorrow's dreams where they will be held
up to the light.
Reflected in mirrors one day, in a poem written down in a
book, for all to see that I have finished.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem