everybody owns
a middle kingdom
in which one is born king
where one measures
the world and manoevres oneself
ahead of the rest, the race
the flame might waver
flicker to a little light blue
near to petering out
but as soon as the air steadies
it jumps back to show you
how tall you can actually be
if you could hold on to your dream
never giving up come rain or shine
the one middle kingdom
so well guarded no one would
even realise it is there layer by layer
inch by inch constructed
by its one and only king
the rest might be better
work, women or soccer
but this middle kingdom
never once would the sun rise
without his mighty plans
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love this, I love this, I love this. I don't know why, except for its singular truth!