Wakefulness hitting me in the middle of the night,
catching my eyes in starlight.
Watering sorrowful thoughts growing inside my mind
waiting to be picked and shown in written words.
Sharing all manner of thinking with whomever wants
to be present in sacred times, kept hidden until now.
Creeping down back stairwells, hoping to be set in
lines of adjacent thought, while ideas find their
way onto the pavement of my mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem