Silent and sublime, my mind sends messages to and from
rhythms, matching their tempos to beautiful sounds
emanating from within intellect.
Clocks now unwinding, ticking instead of tocking and
flowing backwards so life will start from the beginning
once again.
Pictures of it's face being illuminated in time from
deep inside space, lost moments traveling aimlessly,
nowhere to lay their hands.
Lying bare their seconds and minutes on edges of past
centuries, always finding reminders of time in past
images of clocks now hanging on ancient walls.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem