What is this memory?
I can not tell mineself from me
what is the free but free?
not free, it seems to be
Acknowledge and stand
those of life, simplistic not bland
do not lift thine hand
I shall choose; dull or grand
Where is that day?
I looked to yee to look away
on me no hand thine shalt lay
this thought lost within the fray
Ah yes, now the fog hast gone, the fog that lingered for all too long
pray it stays, truth be told, I feel as a codex, with one major fold
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem