Going to bed does not always induce sleep, because this
mind is always awake and grasping for a pen to write the
thoughts that continue unendingly through darkened hours
alone.
Searching conventions for new ideals, hoping to bring
together, many uncomplicated and beautiful thoughts into
realms of undiscovered thought processes as yet.
Sensing so many responses waiting to be answered, desires
waiting also to be expressed in volumes of love and caring.
Incessantly cooperating with a special grace found only in
the soul when contemplating through musical compositions
and writing of poetry in solemn areas of this brain.
Walking through depths of vast deserts, following my soul
through it's darkness, learning of self and it's reasons
to unfold within thoughts and pictures of memory and writing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem