Solace. What is that?
Am I supposed to feel any? Why don't I?
Walking down lanes of yesterday, seeking patterns of belonging.
They never seemed to be there then and today I can't find them either.
Yet, when an instrument is played there I am, focused on the musical scores.
Lightening moods, infecting me with prodigious volumes of emotion.
Flowing, never changing, taking me into designs of imaginative placement where only I have permission to go and wallow around.
Sensing something coming around the corners of my mind, waiting for them to cover me with beauty and rhythm in tune with my soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem