Symbols are true, because they are there.
Your solemn ache
proud of failure
traces a circle.
Dark and eternal, in all its purity
punishment becomes an award for life.
It is not difficult to know
whether a god exists.
You commit suicide to become a god.
Inoculating falsehood
dying daily unto death was not my pitch.
Your mind breaks the moon in dark,
into hundred bright crumbs.
Each bit becomes a metaphor
To shock the garden.
`Dark and eternal, in all its purity punishment becomes an award for life.' .... blind truths, seldom seen, must unveil. care, sjg
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The sandwich was wrapped in a scrap of scripture. White bread, no mayonnaise, no butter, no mustard. The lord will provide. And cleanliness is next to go. A little in the spoon, bent so it stands independent of the moon. The heat is so cold. So desperately cold.