Like wine in storage,
The cellar of my perception ages
Buried deep in its recesses
The past and future abandoned
—time no longer the vintner
Fermenting in the immediacy
Of the chosen instant
And distilling in the perfection
Of the perpetual present
—the moment reopens
Bringing with it everything
—and nothing at all
(Garrett Hill Pennsylvania: January,2014)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem