I did not fear my birth
Into this fluttering breath
Where decimal places of measured time
Resolve their way to death.
I linger in my consequence’s tree,
Watching the days detach, drift down, dissolve
Into the primal soup of history
Where egg became zygote — me.
Those days now surround me like a pyre
Wherein my time has perished. From the glow,
Their airy ashes touch me, soft as snow,
Greying my Lenten cheeks with vanished fire.
(2008)
My mortality! My mortality! My mortality! Excellently expressed my friend 10+++
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
If you can find the time read 'Rendezvous'.Kind regards.