i cannot decide,
whether i be...
the spider,
the web,
the fly just caught,
or the moment before...
all of these, or none!
when a poet becomes
a simple carpenter,
trudging through life
with a hammer,
a few nails,
and a rusted saw...
looking for broken branches
to build an ark from!
one huge dark cloud
in a sky grown icy still...
writing thoughts on a notebook
stolen from a dumpster.
curiously drawn
to the strange and real...
a fly on the way
to destiny!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
destiny awaits us all, a great poem.