Strands of hair, curling, blowing across this paper
as I write.
Distracting for only a moment before I gently pick
it up and let it fall to the ground, continuing to
write to my heart's content.
A lovely time inside my mind, no one to bother me,
no one to care if I'm alive or dead.
So peacefully can I be alone, listening to the
rhythm of my heart and soul in tune with my purpose
and plan on earth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem