I live in the mind, contained,
That dwells at bay,
Beyond the physical realm,
They allege I trigger lust and desire,
The source of all craving,
Seek bodily comfort, rich nourishments, embellishments,
Regardless of the apparent disconnect,
And though not the direct recipient,
I am still the beneficiary of it all,
Reaping all the harvests,
Yet marooned, safe from harm's way,
I live in fear, accused,
Heavily burdened, anchored,
They say I am the cause of it all,
Yet I fail to see how?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the good sweep in good poetry Reaping all the harvests, Yet marooned, safe from harm's way, I