`
Invisible but not voiceless,
This fire within me burning;
Fueled by things long since done;
Uncertain it would continue
And most certainly would one day end.
Resounding vermillion trains,
Travelling across frontier lands;
That began by fits and starts.
But this is just the beginning,
And most certainly is not the end.
Smearing the silence with my thoughts:
Scarlet ink on blue paper;
Conversing along the lines;
Uncertain it would continue,
And most certainly would one day end.
Slumbering souls awaken,
Speaking to us on paper;
Streaking sheets with stunning stains.
But this is not the beginning,
And most certainly is not the end.
`
Nor should it be the end, when you right such wonderful poetry why would you stop 10++
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem, I'm looking forward to reading your other poems next.