We are walking this plane of life
Three dimensional sight and stereo sound
The plane above where angels walk
Guarded by God from all around
His favored few are close at hand
No contrasts there, no one stands out
To take recognition for things they've done
Handing the glory to the favored one
Hoping that by doing so He will become greater
But some will tumble,
Some will fall
For making competition
To those around
Firsthand knowledge by me
Who was always greater than most
Whispers in my ear hinted my fall
From the plane above to humanation
Humiliation
And so I flap my arms
Try to fly
Like all those before me who were buried
And now are associated with dust
No more realm of glory for me
No more looking up to see, you see
What's up there is unreachable perfection
Obtained by few and never won twice
And I am no longer
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem