Feeling isn’t the inside of the hand
but the outer skin
the flesh bone friction
Everything external
Hearing is not the speaker but
The drum,
Echo,
Everything designed evolved
Me loving isn’t self but
Eternity immortalizing
Feeling
My feeling
Transfixed now forever
You receiving isn’t
You receiving but the perpetuation
Of a higher and ageless ideal action
I sit hear in my den in the early morning
The indigo
air
permeating through window
but this isn’t me
this is the ancient position of the
grafter of desires and feelings
through the contemporary vernacular
of some current moment
and as all isn’t and is
so my love forever will be
but never
for you
the everything of a moment
but
for love
the ever lasting ritual of time eternal
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem