Living in a leftover atmosphere of once before, having fun,
living dreams of being an author and soon to be publisher,
waiting incessantly day and night.
Mind filled with joy, ideas, concepts and imagery of what-
ever these senses record on a photographic memory screen
within.
Lively and vibrant, always with pen in hand, mind never
slowing down, always immersed in rhythms of music that
carry this mind into an interior spirituality.
Entering dimensions where there's only one alone, being
focused within, nothing to interrupt this sphere of time
as long as this mind is immersed in a bluened light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem