Last rivulet of conversation
writhing on the edge of
wet expanse of acceptance
soon the desert would be herding
mad pack of silences
Kinetics of vast journey
removed from niches of mind
vacuum will suck in all contours of happiness
on this fork of déjà vu
on this roundabout of fate
I stand spent or perhaps ready
For another winding journey
To be herded with arid flock of silences
Inches beyond the vast expanse of acceptance
Ah, so close. If only to move those few inches and lap up even just a bit of that cool expanse. Its nearness gives me shivers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
silences.................well penned..........