Wearing a muslin.
I felt the shadowy cold air of hell.
Akin to the devil.
The pain of my past life haunted my dreams.
But when it seemed like the abyss was starting to befriended me,
The Gods took me under their wings.
Like their cleaned sterling,
I illuminated as a nova.
I felt so novel.
The dark had crept far away.
I would wailed at the Lords,
Holding with my hands up, begging the heavenly majesties.
Just when I kneeled toward my lords...
The chime of my conscious life took hold
Was I dreaming?
The illusions of my dream felt real.
I looked at my rusted roof.
Then kneel down to reside my morning prayer.
A pigeon must have flew past,
I thought, to the flap I heard.
I took a look unto a mirror.
I'm no pigeon.
I'm an Angel.
O.M Hajane
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The illusions of my dream felt real. I looked at my rusted roof. Then kneel down to reside my morning prayer. A pigeon must have flew past, I thought, to the flap I heard. I am angel. what a realization. tony