Notions of peculiarity rear their heads,
wanting a chance to be among the normal
beginnings of ordinary things.
Not wanting to stand out or be complicated
by other endeavors on waysides of life.
Targeting infinite possibilities of beyond,
grasping them tightly with open arms and
sorrowful hearts.
Staying within periods of bereavement that
need to be tended in compassionate ways.
Longing to become tantamount images in
areas of interior screens of life waiting to
be seen in details of natural science.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem