Finding nothing to say, dwelling within an interior language,
a fire blazing into the intellect of nature, always within me.
Searching and going nowhere, yet something is coming about
silently and being coded to show that it is a possibility of
life yet to come.
That of finding a cure for death in a future lifetime, just
writing into books about it's instant appearance about to
come about on a future horizon.
Silhouettes of it's essence appearing as the sun begins to
set within my being tonight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem