As wandering
in the forest dark,
or sitting solely
in the crowded city park,
both a being absent
pallid and alone,
in calm or clamor,
there continues
a searching for home -
As the fertile bee
moves by buzzing wing,
and wild whip-poor-wills
melancholy sing,
so there is
a longing to find
that perfect place far beyond
the limits of mind -
As surely such
may exist,
come now to know
the truth of the twist,
there is no limit
to living's possibility, for
there is always much more
than what we can touch, hear and see -
Ponder on, my friend. Your mind wanders into places where most people never consider.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is brilliant! I think we're all searching for this place.