My Nails are access
To vaults of thought
Creating I hope an experience for some
With their demise.
Their sacrifice opens doors to views beyond
Created in their death and born in their ashes
I surrender them willingly,
In the hope for inspiration,
Through their small loss
I gain insight to thought and contemplation
They are the keys to my soul
Their death is mourned
But they will return
Ever renewing those thoughts
Which without their loss
Would not be born
Or ever become the written word
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem