Skirting edges of antiquity, walking towards paths of solitude,
unafraid of new experiences and false attitudes.
Situated in the forefront of modern times, placed in pockets
like change, felt always closely at hand.
Times are filled with ever-widening circles, encompassing the
pristine air of a peaceful, fruitful, spiritual inner life.
Placed upon flowing rivers of inner desire, folded carefully
in an inner sanctuary, kept hidden from view, and placed
spiritually upon the altar of my soul in preparation for the
future.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem