The words do not come
Not even as whispers
The silence is not the silence of peace rest or holiness
Inward emptiness is the song of the hour
And the darkness of all feeling lost-
Words are a power
And a blessing
For the true poet
Even silence says something-
But here where within there is no light
Words are only the forced privileges of a long lost meaninglessness
And I in between
Try to hide that emptiness
And make of my own struggle
A music that means perhaps something somehow
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
We human beings have the ability to turn around a hopeless situation to one which radiates positive energy which may come to us as 'A music that means perhaps something somehow'. Thanks. Words are only the forced privileges of a long lost meaninglessness And I.... Try to hide that emptiness