If life itself is not poetic...
With bewildering twists,
Adorned with abstract expressions
Worn to adapt
As one who is seen
Wearing an assortment of hats!
Then for some...
Who believe they have power
To censor and shun
What grows and blooms under the Sun...
Stunt their own growth,
With diminishing opportunities to expand
Limited minds already confined!
No matter who decides to live through it...
With eyes and ears closed.
Left to breathe in suffocating boxes.
Choosing to experience what 'is' unexposed.
They will always be 'outfoxed'...
By that which surrounds and magnifies.
An obnoxiousness encouraging misfits...
The ones who sit on standards that have drifted.
And eventually mentally blocked,
As life continues to thrive,
Without the narrow minds of those...
Withered in a time no one wishes to revive!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem