Coming to an end,
A plunge into the darkness,
Death by blade or bullet.
Key hole wind, winding through my head
The end of observation...
Start of action through stillness,
Blinded sight leading to serenity,
Ruptured hearing, listening to thought,
Grey matter more important...
Impotent clutter,
Cleared away.
Making room for inaction...
Making time to say...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem