49 years are all enough
to perfect
agnosticism.
the icons are sold.
religion is turned off like a nonsense radio.
belief is suspended
like a frozen stalactite.
but for one thing the river still runs to the sea
calling for help.
agnosticism does not expect anything
from an ocean.
it sinks and wills what death wills.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem