The air is humid and there's noone to feud with.
Previous entertainment beguiles your thoughts,
attentive to his every word,
now entirely convinced it's meaningfull,
I wish to participate in activitys so dull.
Now music fills the air.
I absorb the thick twist of sound,
a masterpiece donated to my ears.
The feeling dilates from my head to my toes,
now it has nowhere else to go.
Now calmness fills the air.
It surrounds me, it's inside me,
a derivative around my most open pores,
providing me.
I cannot repent this striking idea,
one of relaxation,
techniques dispensed through the air.
where does it retire?
Is it deceitful? Something there?
For reason would be insignificant,
no end to a beginning...
Copyright © ®2009, Chris Holmberg. All rights reserved
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem