A glance backward.
Nothing to see.
The path ahead
winds
onward
nevertheless.
Attention demands
accumulate.
Thinking
becomes a process
that consumes
the past
and
foregoes
the
future.
Still,
the self
clings
to the vision
of the memory.
(4-23-1991)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem