As I walk alone in a world all my own-
I ponder the paths that have crossed my way;
A doctor, a plumber, a proctor, a drummer,
So many miles of dreams have passed my way.
As I write alone in a style all my own-
I pause for a moment to freeze frame time;
I wander, I mutter, and brainstorm asunder;
So many miles of themes have come my way.
As I pray alone with a psalm all my own-
I gaze at the Cross that nurtures my force
I repent, I will try, good intent till I die;
So many miles of penance I have yet to pay.
As I sleep alone, in a dream all my own-
I imagine I'm Poe, quilling words lined with gold;
And I realize, I know, I will never be Poe;
So many miles of foundation I have yet to lay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem