Exclusion did not free them to grandeur.
As they sheltered themselves in secret.
What they met was an isolation squandered,
With possessions to rust.
And feelings emptied of depth.
Exclusion did not free them to grandeur,
As wished to live lives in splendor as they pleased.
What their selfish centeredness self righteous eyes have left...
Is a way of life that promises a slow death.
And a fear of losing what they have theft,
From those they chose to keep bereft.
In minds polluted and blind,
That takes their breath...
To spin in recycled steps of their regrets!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem