I will conquer,
Though I be grey, and old, and bent.
And though I wobble here and there.
Though the paint is faded now,
And on the surface, many dents.
I will perservere,
though it hurts to live, with many cares.
when worry lines cover my brow.
When arthritic fingers are locked in place,
And a lack of hunger, which is so rare.
And I will fly,
And on a different plane appear.
And then I will never die,
there will be no more pain, nor grief.
No longer tired or sad, or anything to fear.
10/29/13 Alton Texas
An excellent write Juan, a great philosophy to aspire to. Especially like the last verse.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
death ends not but continues the life's cycle. wonderful write, Juan.