Walking into the darkness of my soul, not seeing a thing in the ebony blackness.
Knowing there is plenty to see as I feel the whispers telling me of the senses being awakened as I walk past.
Traipsing slowly down garden pathways, smelling the scents of poetical blossoms exploding from the end of my pen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem