Reaching inwards where all of life exists within our souls,
watching how it continues beating along with rhythms of
another life, lived for moments in eternity.
Left to beat throughout a life filled with turmoil and mirth,
nothing else seeming to matter as long as writing continues
flowing and cascading from this soul.
Singly filling many pages, prolifically taking self into
depths no one else can digest or exist except this mere poet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem