We-
Are of no
Perfect symmetry.
Like Sun beams
Blasting an oceans
Breast,
Revealing
Ripples-
And little wrinkles
The arched
Tackle of a
Wave, Washing
Sharp seashells
Ashore, slashing
The soft white sand
Nor are we-
As stoical as
We’d like to be.
A dark haired
Rain cloud sends
Sea bound men
Into a flaming
Frenzy.
Or some disturbance within-
A crimson roar tears
The sea’s chiasmic
Floor, We raise
Our liquid limbs-
And crush the
Innocent, again.
We-
Are of no
Perfect symmetry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem