For a while I thought
blind worshiping was a valid option.
For a life secured by the
higher power, blind worshiping loses
its validity indefinitely.
I thought this higher power
always had a clear purpose.
I was proven wrong, however,
when a father one day
killed his son
in sacrifice to the
the higher power.
Do you see the irony here,
the man here acts as a monster
in favor of the higher power.
Worship here has fashioned
a gothic cloak.
Human heart is a beautiful gift,
the paradox is it also can mean
something utterly gruesome.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem