Lifelong intimacies are held close to our hearts,
recalled by memory's minds.
How majestic, symbolic and true we are to our
inner selves and souls.
Energy making styles flit in and out, causing us
to tire as we grow old without.
Always thinking as a child deep inside our egos,
always with some pride in doing so.
Terracking our full embodied spirits we quench
ourselves on beds of rivered stones, awaiting
recognition.
All of natural wonder is tuned in to a soul from
it's inception into being, alone.
Awaiting cherub thoughts we are filled with images
never lasting more than a few minutes.
Clay clouds sink upon our minds, taking impressions
and blowing them away with winds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
love to see a poem walk with other poems do not know the steps...very unique and worthy of my respect and admiration.