Lonely highways, miles flying by, nothing much mattering
as my mind escapes within itself.
Designs and possibilities of newly created ideas continue
to be seen in ghosts of grayened invisibility.
Echoes silently being reverberated in this being as an
interior life continues to struggle to remain free from
all the strife in this world today.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem