We all are there, we are
walking through that road
white hairs show up, the bed
calls us more
we are tired or lack the
energy, yet a desire to burn
in life's essence pull our
strings
we keep walking, slow and in
a silent meditation
sometimes we look at each
other with no reactions since
deep within we all know our
outer shells are growing old.
We gain years on earth,
we experience life,
we learn about illusions,
and wisdom wraps us in the
golden light...
yet millions of us live the
same kind of life, we know
and we deny that we are
aging
we keep dreaming of better
days, we hope that situations
will change
time elapses, and we keep
growing old: wrinkled skin,
weak eyesight, slow pace
and diseases, sometimes a
series of hospital-visits.
An open window, wide eyes
looking out in hope to see
the horizon. The flying wings,
the blue dreams and the
warm sunshine. Memories of
childhood.
Two strings binding the
the eternal path of a journey
that brings the souls to
witness the circles of birth,
life, death and the spiritual
transcendence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I liked very much the last stanza.