Sitting under the tree, fresh life on those branches,
emeralds dancing in a gentle breeze just enough to tango once more,
to the rhythm of the wind,
maybe waltz, I can't tell, only they can.
I try to listen to the composers notes, coming faintly, behind a veil,
I can only feel the truth they are swaying to, so beautiful.
I can't see my own, the door closes before I can completely step in and dance,
when I do, something stops me,
I know I carry a veil, preventing me from its fullness.
Why can't I just let go and become that tree with shimmering emeralds,
dancing, so beautifully to the truth and its music,
what stops me from this experience,
I don't know.
Always departs leaving me empty, it leaves me alone, to find, to search,
so much more, so much deeper,
I want to let go, just let go,
My every breath controlled by something.
I want my breath to be the everlasting melody of truth,
it never settles on those notes,
goes around, and round, disturbing the place I so search for,
I can't find it.
I can't find myself in the truth but do, in the opposite of the truth itself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Something that I rediscovered floating in back alley of blood: I wear your breath on me all day i wonder if they notice I smell any different