(These are my words from a previous poem, but, thanks to James Bowling They were fashioned into a better version of the original. Enjoy.)
He comes for me
In the shadow of day
In the darkness of the sea
And in the mouldings of clay
He waits for me
In my final place
For with thee I must go
To see his face.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem