destiny is always silent
it is deaf and mute but it always comes and goes
and comes and goes
and then lets go what it has to offer
and then takes back
what we do not deserve,
you look forward and you see haze
fog so thick gathering on the side of the hills of your mind
you walk in there
no words no thoughts and then you penetrate it
and then you disappear
there is no self, just an idea of the self
there is nothing you can touch just the idea of the touch
there is something that you can hear but you have no way figuring what it is
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem