So many ideas tangled in my head
As tangible as an ethereal mist
More knots the more I unthread
How many opportunities missed
Clutching what little I could grab
I piece together what I can, guess the rest
With each substitute, I take a stab
In the dark. So tired, but almost there. I can't rest
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Many novel ideas waiting for exploration. Nice poem....10. Please kindly check my poems HOPE and THE BEAUTY OF DEATH and leave your comments and rating.