only death can take away
the faces we see each day
their fading shadows suddenly gone by day
and only words can stay
with those on their deepest clouds on a sunny day.
only words can say,
when life is beclouded by sacred nearness
the quietness of fearlessness
submits to unprofane intimacy of tirelessness
and takes matters to its sacred writ
by the hidden treasures therewith.
when sadness invade an emotion,
only words can say not in abstention
to life soul seed sown than possession
of the sad faces to our own person
in genesis of us all in pattern
from dawn ‘til fallen.
only words can say,
to question what we say
only words can say,
to humble our souls
as we struggle to our calls
and say to our folks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
“the littlest things we encounter all have a matter to the mind especially when all our senses function to sustain us as we paddle through the facets of life and death. there is validly no distinct reason for us to give or prove but a reason for us to live and exist for the next matters of life until one ceases to. the severity of pain is within the mind and so is the cure; only words can say.”