Rising above depths of despair, clinging gingerly
to the natural life before me, I await some sign of
intelligence.
Spread out across my horizon, steps of tomorrow cross
my view.
Wondering as the waves wash over me, how much of life
is real and what of it isn't, and why?
Thinking always about what lies beyond seeing, hearing
and feeling.
There are so many unanswered questions that I can make
up answers for, but are they logical and can they do
no harm?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem