Riding dusky trails of life in a melodious stupor quiets the soul, enables it to grow.
Outlasting the peacefulness of man, contemplation flows forth, sprouting everywhere.
Times of liveliness gather like moss around the north side of a tree,
penetrating and creating images for memories to grasp onto.
Galloping through arid deserts of living, a thirst for knowledge builds and confiscates all other curiosities.
Taking time to allow imagination it's freedom so wisdom may accrue throughout the years.
Life standing, searching, not knowing that within is all it ever needs to know.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem