Testing waters of ancient times, noticing the acrid odor
emanating from it's depths.
Holding positions of yesterday's recriminations, toasting
information being given in untold rhythms, as we hold or
breath in major proportions of today's quality.
Soon to be apprehended in a hollow trunk of a forest tree,
taking up residence in deepest comfort of one another's
distant factions.
Peaceful lovely floors filled with fallen pine needles,
adding to the aroma of interior secrets of my mind,
unfolding self from deepest patterns of yesterday's depths.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem