Sat on the cold stone steps,
Beneath the gaze of carved angels.
Sat peaceful, amidst the hustle,
The bustle of normal people, normal lives.
The cold air numbing,
Warming my soul.
People, traffic, life, noiselessly passing by,
Hushed by the waves of thrashing thoughts.
A life spent placing blame
On Past. Pinning Hopes
On Future. Overlooking and neglecting
Present; Lives precious gift.
Warily paddling in the shallow
End of the pool of life. Fear.
The lifebelt preventing total submersion
Into Freedom.
Under a million hopeful stars,
In the doorway of Faith.
The beginning of the end,
Sat on the cold stone steps.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a very well written poem...great fluidity...every word thought over carefully...i really can appreciate this type of poem :) tom