Strange, to think that each of us
is filled to overflowing
with a treasure house of jewels;
sparkling when they’re known;
beyond price, beyond touch,
beyond sight – yet not beyond
the sensing in one other self..
filled, and yet doubting, towards, even, denying..
awaiting - perhaps not ardently enough? -
the moment when they’re called
to show themselves; the almost
(but not quite…) unimaginable
riches of the self..
Lovely, positive piece you've penned. You've certainly got a heart of gold. -chuck
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is, indeed, priceless M. You leave me provoked with thought, gratitude and the need for waterproof mascara as ever. t x