Sounds of silent sorrow fill the atmosphere, taking one
through gardens of grief on the way through life.
Tantalizing insistence of private tears to fall within,
as falling into labyrinths of ageless time, forgotten
and left to one's own devices, getting slowly through
the aftermath of stress in life.
Accessing rhythms on the way, turning them up faster,
moving quickly down aisles of flowers, touching with
their essence of sweet aromatic sorrow.
Now flowing straight into depths of a soul to be dealt
with through heavenly purposes, being used for whatever
God should need them for in the scheme of everlasting
destinies and fate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem