Taking a stroll between land and sea, walking
Makes music, dances the song of life-force
In one easy stage. Decisions seem forked
Only when pathways cross swords, aborting
Our essence of choice. Before that, amble
And sheer variety wll gently take hold
Of our hand, as we edge toward gambling.
Take life's offers, but pick only pure gold.
Walking edgeside will not always produce
Perfection, but it will have it's uses.
'Walking edgeside will not always produce Perfection, but it will have it's uses.' More than wonderful poem.10+
Perhaps the halo of dream as such wraps the gold in side of it, the you, to hang on to it with vision of sight....iip..softly it dreams..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I've walked the walk between night and day lost many chances that have been my way went down roads with no return have lived my life but my fingers burn! would i tread the same path again? food for thought Fay!