Sitting in silence bereft of the open storm that billows around my waking heart. The ice catches my tongue as the falling water soothes my soul. I am not lost within my depth. And the torrent is but a wilderness to tame. I am the receiver. The patient, silent observer. My mind is the storm. I am the stillness. My thoughts the wilderness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem