Lying in wait for explanations to be brought about.
Thinking on all realms of thought, looking for
absolute decisions.
Nothing comes to mind as winds gust over Phoenix
mountains, taking away images being brought up to
see through and seek answers.
Imagination is winding itself subconsciously with
interior motives, following flames of candlelight
lit by prayers from loved ones who are no longer
here.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem