He left a ticket
for you and me
and for everyone else
before he left.
He said he’d be back
but didn’t say when.
He said some of us
would need a ticket
long before then.
You have yours
and I have mine.
Others we know
have picked up theirs
but many haven’t.
Some never do.
Millions of tickets
have gone unclaimed.
What happens to those
who don't believe
they need a ticket?
They can always take
an uncharted flight
and pray the trip
turns out all right.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem