in the end
in trying to figure out the sense of meaning
pouring out
taking in
decanting, filtering,
testing, considering each
detail with
significance
one still cannot accept that
all these data
never make sense
at all
one hopes
nothing comes at random
the chances boils down
to a specific purpose
such a hardheadedness
against the wall
breaking one's head like
an eggshell
nuts!
the premise should have been
in the beginning life has no meaning
man creates his own image
shapes his own future
and out of respect of man's will
God is no longer
there
like Papa
watching his son soldier
leaving him all alone now
to fight his
own war
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem