i will always weave
webs with thoughts
like a widow
black, heart in the shade
awaiting the day
when old ideas fade away
you may be obsolete
if you suddenly see
that you add nothing of adaptive
value
to this equation
but rather than gloat
i will be mourning
in the lotus posture
on some far and remote
desert oasis
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem