The circle dictates the tapestry of Fates imagination.
As dreams of destiny bestow upon the beholder
A knowledge of knowing that remains fresh as flesh grows older.
It is the conscience of the human heart that dictates to the soul a
Sense of guilt. All for what? The world which we have built.
The world for which we strived so long.
In times long since past the human heart and reason
Were one in the same, the Earth would shakes and the
People mutter ‘We have displeased our Earthen mother.’
Each soul a circle, the Universe a sheet of white,
Each soul kept sane is linked up tight within the
Pleasure of the companionship they treasure.
Take it at your leisure. Keep safe your saving graces.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem