Blank,
As free as birds,
Words on a Blue-Grey
Newspaper page.
A Great play by a great mind
This could be. Or just scribbles
From a child in the sand.
I wonder what great rememberences
Create these words, as I feel?
I awe at the vastness of the page.
Once again I pause,
As to collect a thought
That has escaped with the light
That reflects so quietly
Off these barren, yet sacred
Scrolls of wood.
I wonder when this paper was alive,
And was I then?
Do these inscriptions justify it's death?
Just another world to ask questions for,
Just another place to pray.
Even athiests pray,
Conversations with your soul,
Ways to say Thank You,
And, I believe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem