Too much to know.
Too much that is...
And isn't.
Too much that connects.
And yet remains untouched.
Too much of it sits alone.
To rust and wither away to dust!
Too much stuff that clutters up.
In the corners of the mind.
Within the walls enclosing.
Exposing one to imposing fear!
Too much is here.
To know,
That is...
And isn't there to fulfill!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem