We live in a universe
that will eventually die
One that pulsates continuous
worlds, galaxies of all manner
A creation evolving into
and out of exsistence
Should you fear death or accept it
as natural function theres nothing to do
but wait your turn
Like blades of grass we grow
prosper and wither away
To suffer the inevitable change
as worrisome is a living death by choice
One day you and the earth will die
So what?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem