When many moons have gone,
And winds come to blow those seasons lived...
What then had happened in the past away,
Pointless it is to insist upon revisits.
Wishing to stay stubbornly fixed in mid-bloom!
With experiences we should grow from them.
And not pretend they come to leave us unchanged.
Or allow us to prevent, ignore and/or dismiss,
What appears on the horizon to witness and permit...
That which comes to us to discover as the dawn arrives.
'I refuse to accept it.'
~What part?
Your birth or your expected bloom?
Either way...
That dawn you deny will still arrive.~
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
either way, I like it, thanks.