Marching to silent beats, kept sacredly in the interior
of my being.
Responding totally to their insistence to keep step and
not fall behind.
Enticing and beckoning me to follow them throughout the
jungles of everyday life.
Knowing that my being will be sated by their staccato
sounds, tempting me to step in measures of time.
Right alongside passion being held in intellect's heart
beat, savoring it's taste upon my mind throughout life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem