Mortal souls... I collect
so many.
Ceaselessly, borne
in the feathers of
my wings to
the Paradise or
Hell they’ve earned.
I cannot be weary, cannot
shirk the duty
bred upon my
being.
Only allowed a
brief reprieve of
prayer and
the soothing songs
of God to sustain
me.
(R.M.Y.B./12-28-2004)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem