all eyes on history
i've proven to be human
with fits of survival
she reminds me i'm adaptable
so i grab my strings of sanity
knot them tight, together
to hold all
that i am
and will be
i'm not running from much
―most definitely not myself
(i'm bringing her with me)
it's simple:
Can't stay still
knowing
there's a bunch of me's
scattered and seeded
in soil, untouched
unthought of, unconsidered
by the limits encompassing
my ignorance―no, no
no, i don't feel like traveling
just living; planning to
exploit the experience of opportunity
if i ever stop to settle
take it as my letter of resignation
the soul inside me, unable
to expand or evolve anymore
than i've already pushed it to
or, perhaps, it may mean
wisdom has outlived wonder
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem