Cross the sign, feel the flutter of my heartbeat,
A closeness best beat, wrought to my own feat.
That whenever we come, home to a labor’s roost
The piety of it all, an imagination I saw not all out.
And when eyes a mist shed, tears loll on the inside of my pain,
The knowledge that we might be never, hunting me to the innate of infinity.
Of what you hold dear, virtues extolled in haggardness,
Doled out measure for measure, a piece by each wont to ruin.
And I said my heart for the taking, walloped donkey in saddle,
Up in on my chest an armored knight, riding on to a wanton abyss.
The respect is a discharge, unto infinity and yonder,
Wonder if I had you to myself, but might never be.
What you hold as belief, a barrier by us,
Might never be what fate holds for us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Cross the sign... what fate holds for us........ been ages... glad I checked in David.... from the beyond of downunder... aroha PS Keep righting them one peace at a time..