at the end of things
we might be privy to seeing
g*d calling his lightbearer home
shiva embracing
the djinn of the four corners
and maybe
mary
suckling buddha
on her blessed ageless tit
we could watch
as hands of generations
reached into the light
like fiery beasts
grasping for the gossamer
dreams that connect us
and bear witness to the roots
that bind us as kin
swallow us wholly
and in delirious glee
tonight
i would settle for the sight
of sweat pooled and mercurial
under the moon
in the small
of your back
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I enjoyed your poem, it made me smile in my own twisted manner to think that when the world ends i won't be the only one smiling knowing that at least i noticed and appreciated the small things, that most people mistake for dirt on the street.