you long for something intact
like a cover of a jar
sealed and where air is
trapped with
the cookies,
something sweet to see
the tongue salivates upon
of dream inside
a glass
you wish upon something definite
the mere yes or no
nothing about a sophistication
a labyrinthine
scheme into a escape into
somewhere
what you have however in your hand
is a pool of thread
a circuitous distance concentrated
within
when you spread it it rolls
and you leave it there
gaping into
somewhere
and then
losing hope to find
what is at the
end
you walk away
just that
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem