Dissipating inspiration
impending implosion
mean emotional destitution.
Ravenous elements
running rampant all around
ramifications rattle senses.
Looming irrelevance
leaving spirits listless.
Iridescent inspiration if
only you return spawning
brightness beyond compare
which is your wont.
And it is my want,
only want in trying times
which drain the nerves
at a pace accelerating the
pounding heart's
unbearable prattle.
For now I am left with
little to do but be still
just in the hope of weathering
this withering times.
Not precipitating the
degeneration, just being still.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem