In all my journeys, the lone regret
I find impossible to forget
is you.
How can I ignore such familiar comfort
lifting my core towards spiritual transport?
What more can I do?
Where shall the freedom course truer
even as proximity stains my heart bluer?
Skies fade from azure.
My rock grips the earth with tenacity
to lift against the storm, driving with veracity,
you shall soar through.
So sleep and dream of days better
when the moon was no more than white cheddar
dipped in fondue
to bathe only you
in his refracted light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like this poem John. Is it autobiographical I wonder?