Listening to angelic music being composed within
my mind, nothing standing in the way.
Bluened light beckoning this mind with a clarity
and purpose of interior life.
Sensitive and innate, writing the essence of my
intellect into pages of poetry.
Poems will continue to fall upon many blank
pages before I finally succumb to death on my
final horizon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem