Walking tightropes of life, wavering in heights of environmental duress.
Existing in plain sight, ineffectual at best, riding through life in a coffin filled with satin and lace.
Shining up ahead, a motorcycle's awaiting my essence.
Stepping and riding into sunsets of existential patterns, set up in pathways of yesterday's images.
Always conquering inner fears and doubts with ever-present faith.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem