who among us
is truly alive
amidst the living lie
it’s hard to tell
how sunrise
will cast the spell
better to blaze
as wicks on fire
than to rust
as those
caught in a life
of prose
so many souls
unable to wake
the muse
the unconscious fuse
no longer
in the red
the dead live
they spend their days
waiting
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem