The best is yet to come to pass;
Yet, each and every day
in looking back, I do recall
How far I've really come, in all:
A testimony to display
of what has yet to come my way...
A patient and a longing man:
That was my yesterday...
From the ashes burned, I rose.
And I manifest the prose:
'The past does not define a man;
But power in his spirit can! '
Let the inner fight be won
in every precious day.
Cleave not unto my tempest years,
and all associated fears...
But, rather seek to watch and pray
and turn my darkness into day!
Happiness and joy I'll sing
until my dying day...
And on into eternity
as I shall live eternally!
My Winter sleep awakes in Spring,
and truth and light with me I bring!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem