Solemn day, as solemn as any day can be
but yet how can I portray it to be
The harmonic duet of the bird and blooming wild flowers
prove me wrong
Love, a distant theory is also a quilt of comfort like
Shakespearean prose
the heat, the warmth on a cold winter's day
Love, a springing halt to collateral damage
the only measurement withstanding the ferocity arises
as does a question
How can one live to love if to live and love is evil
spell them backwards, the theory becomes a tested hypothesis
Maybe the conclusion arrive in the form of another riddle
or maybe the man in the moon will descend and live happier
Every time I gaze at him, he wears an expression of agony
in the loneliest morning and darkest night
like his wife has died
Fright, what is it; it's a method, a state of being
an epidemic, a disaster
Could it be a symptom of lust
not knowing what's to come bolting through a closing door
or an attempt to keep a presence intact and forever perhaps
One can never know unless one already knows
omniscient, omnipotent
but then again, it's similar to asking for aid, paid in full
for an unknown someone to help pull the trigger
right between the eyes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Blooming wild flowers! With the muse of life and love. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.