Walking haltingly, stepping to an individual season to be
experienced as an entity, alone, serene, noting nothing
but isolation of abandonment.
Striving to rid self and go beyond it to another place
where all can be forgotten and left on desert shores for
an eternity.
Never looking back, tunnel vision exploiting my mind as I
walk into it's void.
Capturing seasons, taking meaning from them and placing it
upon feelings, explaining them through cold, chilling,
memories of long-lasting loneliness.
Folding everything into self and taking away all
inopportune thoughts, holding me back.
Striving to get right with self, moving off the beaten path,
taking the lesser lane, wanting nothing to do with well
traveled journeys, stepping only to the beat of incessant
longing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem