Quiet strains of joy gently cuddle up against my mind,
soothing and calming edges frayed from the day.
Softly swaying in the breeze of thought, delicately
aired and cleansed by the purity of my soul's awakening
hope.
Reaching towards events and experiences, unafraid of
the results, still exercising hope and silent prayer
throughout it all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem