the world's last look
at it all, will not be
the way we tend to
look at something
for the last time
it's always a drawn
out affair, these goodbyes
these hands shaking
other hands grasping
at other hands
where they go you can-
not follow them to that
place in the sky or
down below, tears
can follow a river bed
but you cannot
what was it you were trying
to accomplish with that
kiss of death
when the world ends
there will be a bright flash,
an honest sigh from inside
a blind man seeing light
for the first time
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem