In the midst of the night,
Surrendered my fight.
Struggling through tears,
And times long gone by.
I've walked the path cut before me,
Whether by fate, or chance.
Tis' I who've treaded the waters,
At times gently, at times wrecklessly.
Yet, it was I, who walked the walk.
Should it be me to tell those holding me above redemption,
Of my failures, or my triumps?
Might we simply yield, to love and acceptance?
Allow unturned stones to slumber,
Sift until their residence becomes the past.
To eventually become part of the whole,
Yet again, by coincidence or virtue.
Where past and present mold into no regret,
Becoming the moment of eternal residence.
Knowing the true way, before the journey,
Reaches it's destination.
Might I mount the courage,
To get to know myself.
To meet myself,
Before my arrival.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love how it built up to the third stanza. Made me respond out loud, No you don't need to. And then again I. Your last stanza when I said to myself yes, the point of our mistakes is just that, to be understood by ourselves, not explained to others. For it is only on us what steps we take, not them.