Stringing along measures of notes into lines of poetry,
feeling their sublime and profound effects upon mind
and intellect.
Their bountiful sensations easing this being into a
silent form of contemplation where nothing exists except
the reality of the Divine here within a bluened light.
Steady rhythms beating into time, keeping track of all
patterns and designs continually, forming in intellect,
creating poetry out of and through musical rhythms.
All so perfectly balanced and attuned to God, nature and
surroundings while writing, aware only of an interior
intuition and sixth sense.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem