Dusty planes,
Taking off,
Never looking back,
Too proud,
Too independent,
Never seeing the silhouette,
Stumbling across the desert,
Desperate, in hallucination,
Wandering, searching,
For the one they think they saw,
Crossing sanity’s line,
Dead whispers,
Found only at night,
In the emptiness,
Of the winding road,
Sprinting, flying,
In powdered storms,
Across miles and miles,
Of the desolate tracts,
Tumbling weeds,
Brushing their legs,
Reminding them of the one they thought they saw,
Dropping beneath,
Beneath the surface,
In tears,
Tears that create an ocean,
Filling the dead with life,
Only with their sacrifice,
Was the wind and rain brought back.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
awesoooome. i really liked the ending. :)