Too much of darkness lace the poem,
Loss and confusion drain the lines.
Reading it seems Defeat has come
Upon me as I searched for what it defines.
Man is spirit, body and soul.
To deny this truth is but utter loss,
A pained groping for what makes us whole,
A curse found in a life without cause.
Too much darkness cannot make the eyes see
It succumbs the mind to blind desperation.
Inner conflict, doubts, uncertainty
Mark the poet who dwells in oblivion.
Cynthia Buhain-Baello~~~01.27.18
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Stupendous poem. A poignant write well executed. The flow and wording are just fantastic. I totally agree with the poet's note that the mind is like a memory bank.10