Designs rising and falling within picturesque portals of creativeness, whiling away hours just writing and enjoying peace and serenity of a bluened light within.
Watching as life is being lived without me, not feeling emotions that're in this hollow being right now, just doing motions of what is expected, not releasing anything.
Creating is the only thing keeping energy interiorly, building it very well as this poet writes to creative and intellectual music throughout all days and nights of being.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem