Quiet ineptitude stills a heart with the fervor of a saint, belonging on heaven's side of earth.
Closing beats into a single breath of fate, proclaiming the easiness of resting in life's exasperated rhythmic hearts
and souls future aspirations.
Holding carefully, interiorly - the beginning of time within our special natures, awaiting the touch of God on our beings, waking us to His memory and living in Him forever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem