Show me, old one, the fragile empty dawns
That break in bleak waves over Soul Mountain
For I seek solace in the silence of the unborn
Hidden deep inside the womb of morning
Give me the shelter of the tender light
That rises like soft smoke from the misty lakes
For I seek the lonely aftermath of night
When I feel no hunger and have no thirts to slake
Tell me the secrets of the daytime moon
That softens the glare of the sun and basks
In crests and waves of melted gold and soon
To die, hovers there like an empty mask
I hope solace was found in a secret formed by wispy smoke that arose on an apex to smother a mask and shed emptiness to be remolded as euphoria.. keep penning, One Peace at a Time, Deana
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That's an interesting way of putting it. Indeed it was... Peace and Sandwiches