The infinite sky may have the end,
The illusion, reflection and refraction are the clues,
We may be the size of a a microbe or an ant,
The virtual players may be so huge hiding behind,
The burning stars are billion in numbers,
Who has laid the mirror to reflect our hearts?
The whistling air has no place in the space,
Who laid the barrier around this abode?
When I take the religious knife to slice your thought,
When I procure the old fashioned notes from the desert,
When I scream aloud to make my points to be true,
I have failed as a human who is progressive.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a great illusion of human mind that wants to make his points to be true. A very crystal clear write which is free from any illusion. Nicely crafted and this is a great achievement for any creative person. Words are beautifully decorated. Thanks for sharing. Regards.