Strands of thought flow out of my mind
And shimmer delicately before my face;
They tantalize me, as I proceed to inscribe
Where they may lie situated in their place.
Tis' disconcerting, to state the minimum;
The innermost depths of ones' soul, though
Truth, the great cultivator, rests within:
Here one must focus to see the whole.
A yearning: palpable, yet hitherto enduring,
Certain to culminate and complete in Time;
Though first we are tasked with visualizing
The essence before we can cross that line.
Upon this path to visualize essence, whereby
Falls are frequent; a plethora of broken bones,
We're compelled to a scuttle, for through the
Darkness our outcome cannot be known.
The dread you feel while scurrying about in
An attempt to complete this undertaking, must
Be tamed, for fear is the apparatus; ingest it
Ravenously and traipse forth un-breaking, for
To stay the mind; the foundation for clarity,
You must possess ample strength; or be able
To encounter death, while living, and morph
Into a measurement that has no ending length.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poetic imagination and fine poetic sense, Winston. You may like to read my ars poetica named as (Poetic Sense-1) Thanks