If only I had known my problem then,
I would have reaped my fortune with added ken.
If only I had known my problem then,
I would have changed the place of my den.
The ocean of knowledge has sucked me in,
Tossing me about in a bid to desperately sin.
I experience the tossing in mind akin,
Outdoing the tossing in the oceanic din.
Titanic doubts were cast on me,
Whether I could swim or pretend to be,
Or dance to the sounds of melancholy,
The virus was spreading pandemically free.
Is greatness a choice for us to leveragingly keep?
Hidden in inhibited fear to benignly seek,
When weakness is all there is to seep,
Given the dormant potential so ineffably deep.
The voices keep prodding me to start,
Is it too late to do myself apart?
Re-discovering form in a deadly dart,
To hit my target with all my part.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem