Soon comes an end to our long pilgrimage
seeking some utter assurance, that all is well-
after all our tempestuous fretting and doubting
hoping all shall remain well after destiny brings an end to us
And us in the asking - what now?
surely the sheer bliss of such a blessing
so abundant - far beyond our imagination
is more than enough - but alas it is not
Because unsure are we and
unsure is uncomfortable
if not dreadfully frightening
is this magnificent promise true?
And the cruel invention of time
holds us too much in its tyranny
to shake loose from its grasp
at the first loosening of such
firm binding fetters
This journey being more a long imprisonment
of all the senses than a sense of striving itself
Realizing neither dazzlement nor relief
nor even a sense of doing and having done
The dedication is in the deed -
not the pointing to the deed
And it is not in the knowing after all -
it is in the us being us
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem