the next journey is when we carry nothing
although we want to carry a basket of flowers
or a a memory of love & friendship
the rule says it clearly: you carry nothing with you
we are light as air passing by a flash of images of all time spent
the past that we let go with a smile (or perhaps some sighs)
the present drips from our fingers like water from a faucet
and the future the comes with wings and light and faith
that nothing ends without any meaning at all
that somehow every inch of our existence is justified
in the shores of eternity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem