Night words fill the silent air
and hang like predawn mists, drifting
lazily across the fields
of consciousness. Blown gently by
intention, ideas and thoughts take form.
Within the hazy silence words
and feelings find each other, marrying
sometimes into language, sometimes
into music, both appearing
as distillation of silence.
If we were never to step beyond
this certainty during daylight hours,
how happy would the human race
become - collaborating to fufill
each others' dreams of natural concord.
24/10/2008
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Michael, such a heartwarming poem👍👍👍