Am I, volatile

Writing less, gradually
Wanting to act as well
anonymously being

heard and read
nothing else for me
please no incense

with plumes, Iím not sharing
anything thatís mine, I only give
mirror images, life
fed, cherished

and let go, everything
I am, volatile and anew
after it has passed away

nothing is mine
only my birthday
with this thought


Amsterdam, April 17th, 2018
Poem 1719
Translation of poem 1718 (April 17th, 2018)

Collection  The light of words

Zywa