9: 22 a.m.
Taking chances throughout the night, finding moments
that are filled with vacant spaces.
Interior senses vibrating incessantly, taking me into
a spherical magical land of imagination.
A divine and freeing subjectivity, giving objective
particles of thoughtful interludes through rhythms.
Being in no hurry, waiting for the right moment to
follow through, not able to let go.
Taking chances forever, no place to hide or disappear,
finding myself in an interior bluened atmosphere alone.
Positively in a quiet mood of acceptance and resignation
knowing I'm in God's hands.
9: 23 a.m. Copyright: 11/18/15 RoseAnn V. Shawiak
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem