There is a world of magic out there
and I am sitting here with no magic
in my vicinity, imprisoned, as good
as buried while still alive, no song in
my heart, no dream between the
visible world and me
All I can see are documents, meaning-
less, no hope in anything, feeling this
miserable, crying surreptitiously, I will
erect a bulwark to protect me from this
feeling, start from scratch, my fortress
down, breastplate lost
Compass spinning, gyroscope swinging
wildly - but I know I shall overcome the
desolation in my mind, I have done it be-
fore, it takes some time, slow everything
down until time and place disappear, wait
to reach the centre of the inky blackness
Waiting there till prescience provide
luminescence and the vision needed to
guide my feet, no more crying, no more
fearing the godforsaken blackness of
despair, finding peace in trust, knowing
visions shall return when summoned
With a trusting heart!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem