I can feel something else in the room
in a movement, a changing shadow
some kind of blur; it's a hint of
something or someone not me.
Never frightened or anxious,
more curious than anything else.
I grow still; strain to focus my eyes
but nothing is there to see, never is.
In another mindful little moment,
the room itself seems to change
its vibration around me, then it's gone;
all that remains is pure speculation.
Vivid imagination? Too many movies,
far-reaching tales of the unknown?
Perhaps, but for me a sensitivity
known and grown from childhood.
I've learned to listen with all my senses.
I can feel that I am not alone, and I don't mind;
because it is a peace and comfort
that has always left a smile behind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem