Silently sounding trumpets, leading parades through
mind tunnels, crawling along avenues of all my
yesterdays.
Becoming the first to meet it all in fast-paced
rhythms.
Remembering the realities through the past,
throwing hands in the air and walking away, hurriedly
surpassing what has just been seen, yet cannot be
accepted just yet.
Passing by each of the images, collecting destiny in
pockets of emptiness, believing in faith and hope
that can eventually save me from myself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem