There is a dreamer within the soul of a poet
that constantly elevates his spirit to rise;
absorbing colors, music, movement, the tangible
and intangible in the most profound ways;
ways that the ordinary person cannot comprehend.
There can be more meaning to a poet in a fall leaf
than in a shiny new car, an expensive dress or in
any inanimate object. Thoughts revolve as earth
rotates in an never ending pattern within the mind
creating and shaping that next brilliant poem;
evolving within quiet hours spent with a luminous
moon or with the radiant rising sun, or in peaceful
moments by the sea listening to the wistful waves.
Inspiration drives that internal compelling force
a poet exists to experience and dwells with daily.
To love a poet, one must have an understanding
of the solitude that is required of uninterrupted
moments, for as quickly as a bird takes flight
a masterpiece may be lost by the daunting din.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem