rising to the rhythm of movement, whiling away moments
in tempo with nature's daily rhythms.
Quietly acknowledging the stillness and silence of
yesterday's anticipated views of life.
Gathered in images, walking around in misty hazes,
wanting to find the exits into another dimension.
Knowing later, in depths of tomorrow that self will
be hurtling through the times of ageless acquiescence.
Thrown into the aftermath of antagonizing trials of
life's turmoil, no choice in the matter.
Just arriving and expected to carry on as if there's
nothing amiss to change things.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem