all things are meant
to be finished
journeys always have
end destinations
there is always a
titration point
a place where people
end their race
some people take their
rest and say
oh, we're finished
a precious crystal
finally breaks and not
a day is wasted
all mortals die and
that is the meaning of its
being
some keep their masks
of denial
hungry and thirsty still &
lost forever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem