it is the want that is giving me this
prison and so
to free myself i must not want this anymore
i wasted all my precious time to wanting this and that
which i never really got anyway
it is a sour grape
now i am sure about it
so i junked it and look at me i am now free at last
my chest is spacious
my hands are waving like leaves to the wind
feeling cool
relieved at last from all those unnecessary worries
the storms are gone
the sands are too peaceful like my mind
all white
no rock.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem