As he wanders down the ever lasting narrow
hallway, pass the doors of varying shapes,
colours and sizes he noticed the peregrine
atmosphere seemed to thin.
Doors which were once strident, seem to be
vibrating with a harmonic epithalamion tune.
Destination is subjective, it is in our nature
to venture forward. He marches on until...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Interesting trend of thought and mostly brave. No matter what is in front or around us, we must keep moving forward. Love it!