So much noise
that I cannot hear my heartbeat
or does it beat in absence?
I know it to be there
for what I've felt and feel
colliding tides and boulders and storms
waves upon waves
towering suffocatingly
but I have stayed adrift
as driftwood does
as I do; the wreckage from a storm;
many gone and many coming.
There comes no choice of new;
fiery waters, or still, black skies hither
Shall one end end all ends?
All murky ebb and flows?
Shall a quick peg dislodge the splinters?
Yes I feel the cold, but not of the gales
rather the growing cold that slows the heartbeat
there where it resides
and replaces the warmth
as does the end
(Written when my heart was once in turmoil)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
...a free flowing thought process makes the poem flow freely...liked it...