I have it in my hands
the invisible sense of being.
I know it's there,
I feel it there.
And yet, I can't see it.
The untenable soul
of who I am is still
unattainable.
Sitting in my hands,
weaving through my fingers,
tickling my yearnings and longings.
I know I have it all in my hands,
hoping that some day soon
invisibility will become reality,
the intangible will become tangible,
and myself will be returned to me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this speaks to me Melanie, and I think if you sense it, you will eventually find it... it's just a matter of time....