A certain feeling used
To suffocate my thoughts,
Sometimes it still does,
Leaving me in a blank
state of melancholy.
Saddened by my own self;
Surrounded by an aura
Of inadequacy and longing,
Not knowing where i was,
Lost in the thick fog of
Unfinished entries Became routine,
even mine being Rendered itself a
"Work in progress, "
Aren't we all.
When opening one's Mind;
like french doors At dawn,
You gift yourself By embracing all
That life has to Offer that day.
Knowing how to take the good
with the bad is A religion in itself,
A constant practice,
With hopes of Achieving inner Peace
and an. understanding of
This enormously Magnificent universe.
I've found hidden Keys
unlocking The smallest of boxes
Housing the biggest Lessons thus far,
Still eager to learn,
As curiosity has yet To cease the
Subtle knocking On my soul's
Cast iron door.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.