The ideal held high like a trophy,
Worshiped in mind out of sight,
Is a powerful dream that sustains,
But once the interpetation,
And realization of it is known, ,
Leaves one at the cross roads pondering,
Nothing was all wrong,
And nothing tested proved nothing all right,
Which way to go when the ideal,
Was perceived average__
10/06/05
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
another wonderful poem...i like your style and enjoy reading your wonderful work!