In a vast, convoluted universe,
why not a dimension of spirit -
a dimension where the inner soul,
rests in a quiet solitude to
ponder and reflect.
Time is malleable. Perhaps -
the physical is but one part of the big picture.
Each life is an expression.
We are all born innocent.
We all get our hands dirty in due course.
One thing is for certain though.
We are at the mercy of the wind.
The wind is sometimes steady.
Sometimes a sudden gust of wind,
guides you in a different direction.
Perhaps life is the freedom to explore
possibilities?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem