New beginnings sowed with new seed,
not those ones of old and of doubt.
Ones to sprout upwards and never stop,
as the winding tendrils reach up to the sun.
The former growth now trampled to the ground,
rotting and the bugs nibbling, dissipating into
the rest of the rhyme. Start again.
No circles. Only the bigger picture.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem