In order not to hear
The insistent complaint
Of the soul locked up
In that shell,
Give away your life
To the infinite centuries…
Do it, if you wish to live.
…But the crafty beauty
And the treacherous voice
Are needed just for
Testing your soul.
I heard the mysterious voice into my stream consciousness...I felt the planck time...I must live there....
This resonates with me....so true, and so much crafty beauty about too...I'm trying. Simple, deep...thanks Tsira
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Without the bad, we really wouldn't know what good is. Besides, nobody's perfect! Excellent work...Jeff.