What kind of poet are you if you can not,
constantly move back and forth to the edge of what is so far.
God did not make that mess in your back yard.
Inverted eights or pie I won't eat because.
On the edge each strong mind there can stand.
Where the weak can not do what they wrote instead.
Goodness is at the core the code that evil can't break.
I turn around at the edge your at my side.
Light moves forward the edge is thus pushed back.
Be content to know one simple fact.
No matter how much you suffer here and where you go.
Some where you are loving a live where all you do is help.
Other's have evolved and moved past yesterday's, today.
The rest have known that knowledge is the key,
to where you've been I know.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem