I grow impatient with myself
I can no longer write long works
I must move and finish fast
So that I can jump to the next thing
I have the mind in my work
Of a person on the Internet
I click from one work to another
I am always searching for something else
I have lost my patience
I have lost my ability to truly sit and work
I have become a creature of my Age
My mind is an endless racing for something else
An eager greedy lustful hurrying to consume or make
The next item
I am reduced to something very small
And soon this little poem too will be gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow! Very true this poem you've penned! We live in a rush rush world nowadays and I find it so incredibly sad that so many know not the pleasure of long lazy days of doing whatever the heart desires! Well written piece! ! ! !