Having chances throughout our lives to make it real,
trying to do so many things that we think may help
us find our essence.
Sports, intellectual pursuits, leisure, travel then
returning home, realizing that none of it added to
the reality of life.
It only gave us experiences to remember in later
years, having had chances through life to make it
real.
We however have missed the most important aspects
of finding them because our interior lives have been
neglected.
Spirituality having been disregarded and in it's place
was work, money and selfishness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem