There are things that we cannot see,
Things that are just meant to be,
Things that are to become,
Things that are known to some.
There are good times,
Then there are some times
That are not so good.
They'd have tried if they could.
The time has passed,
Would it have lasted?
Everything depends on timing,
Steadily moving always climbing.
If something is to be then it will,
And if not then the time sets still.
Many questions lay unanswered.
Resting, left forever not captured,
Enraptured by the thought of possibility,
'Of what could be.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem