By Josh Rodriguez
We sit in a land surrounded by
Blissful, crystal waters
That rise steadily to our ankles
And change shades
Like a shirt in a drizzle.
Time and time again
We're reminded and blinded
By the vastness of the shallow pool
That separates us and helps us
Trace our lineage.
The clouds bleed,
The clouds are eyes
Broken and disgusted
With what we do under their reign,
Under their rain.
The sun rises, vibrantly
Contrasting its hues against
The sightly sky that mirrors
The waters. It mirrors our state of mind.
We're just weeds
Growing to our destined heights
Then disposed of, purposeless.
It's a shame that we don't try and give ourselves purpose.
Then the sun sinks under the weight
Of contrast and implodes into
A pale globe that doesn't shed light
On the discriminant land.
And instead allows a fog
Of darkness to set
And cover up everything within.
The light of darkness is sometimes clearer
The the light of lightness.
But the hues of black shine through.
And so we pretend it's all solid dark,
Solid black, solid nothing-
But we know that the moon is a veil
And it will soon be morning time,
Time to expose the hues for what they are,
And more importantly-
For what they're not.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem i can feel the message you intended to convey