we have an internal system
that keeps us
burning
at 37 degrees
Atlas of our being
balancing our world
in weather
fair or gloomy
restrains havoc
of the internal network
plays upon
vanity of my being
effects the psyche
valve of miracle and seaships
hot and cold, flashes
vortex of stability
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem