The depth of an ocean, a shallow mind,
Fathoming an abyss, a darkness too kind,
Once gave out light, now deemed blight,
Yet do up-hold the stars of the night.
Unto black undo all creation, shards of a broken hollow,
Up-holder of light, yet the grand gorger to swallow,
Infinitely filled with emptiness, the vacuity that denies,
Up-holder of the stars; dead, yet never dies.
That question to my existence, "Is life within? "
‘Dead, yet never dies, ' then where lies hidden?
Colours of bright saturate, gleam and write,
Drawing the boundaries of this starry blight.
Contemplation of lifelessness that draws all life,
‘Dead, yet never dies, ' my boundaries' strife,
Hence my (b) light evaporates, unto the dark,
Until there grows out of a star a brighter spark.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem