Limbs are 100 years older
Mind hides behind a fuzzy veil
The mind wonders yet sees nothing
I fear of my own existence
When will it end?
A nomad lost in his own thoughts
Locked inside my own exhaustion
Tied to being yet not existing
Weary eyes look upon a life once had
A time when the sunrise never ended
Now dusk is here I look around
And fumble in the waning light
Stumbling over objects once cherished
Now bruising my weak frame
Before the night comes I must find you
So your glow may illuminate the night
Then I can finally leave knowing I gazed upon the pure
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem