Locomotion pushing me ahead of thought as it lies
upon tracks of destiny waiting to be picked and
chosen deliberately.
Without fault, walking into archways of fate,
testing it's excitement, wanting to experiment
with it chemically in depths of imagination.
Searching files, emptying them onto tables of
rehearsal, becoming products of subconscious whims
and desires.
Totally adhering to ideas being formed and molded
with alert choosing of adjectives to describe life's
nouns.
Twisting and turning meanings to fit patterns and
mosaics.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem