I’m standing on the threshold
Of fiery angels to take hold
When thrown to the furnace
With just a name
With all the screams flickering
And all the joys and sorrows of pain
Withdraw from the wound
Life scorned onto you
Hiding in the corner
With himself just bickering
With an endless stream of imagery
Lost In an eternal sea of abandoned memories
Without any words the clouds close and cover me
Give it time and the skies
Will clear again, I’m holding out
To see the sun shine again
I’m standing on the threshold,
Of fire and rage again,
When the streets, don’t know your name
Your voice is silent, as it strains, fight the fight
To be sane again, the clouds will soon clear,
And I’ll hear my voice once more my dear,
With the shining sun’s rays warming me
And no pouring rain drenching me
I can return, to be what I was made to be
Witness the world at play, write and scribe away
Etching the testimony of our days, onto my clean slate
I clear my brain
I return with the sun and hear myself again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem