One word falls as another rises
to the surface of my mind,
together they create the start
of what life means to me.
Each day I hope for more,
Each day I return to source.
That mystical place, a
well of metaphors, a
place of meaning, that
beginning of word life,
found in the stillness, of
life’s yet unspoken library,
which on cue, like magic
words begin to flow.
Jumbled and cramped into
cupboards and drawers,
indexed through time to flow;
words of meaning, doing words
thinking verbs bring action,
to stir, to stimulate a poem.
Poems to inspire, to make right,
Poems that see all of life’s evil,
Poems of hope, reasons for living,
Poems of nature, poems of beauty.
Poems of love, poems of silence.
Creating a philosophical journey,
all mixed, stirred and shaken up,
fashioned to form reasons to
strive, to press on through all of
life’s up’s and downs, to life’s
reason of happiness and bliss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem