Ceres appears in my mind
As I pray for a glimpse of (divine) design
I sense her orbit the pineal, then settle to sleep, supine.
Mars projects for the blind
and Saturn, she doesn't cry.
The gas in her atmosphere breathes in the sun and cycles to heaven's third eye.
Heedless galactic mass, is oblivious.
A light year or two will decalcify.
An eon or more will magnify, so the ghost of the war can religicize.
And we remain enslaved, betrayed, in paralyzing outrage.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem