Whether to be acknowledged or not.
With the hopes that the hiding of it,
Behind huge camouflaged and painted drops...
To be disguised as frost bearing trees.
The truth...
As it will 'always' be,
That which is too tremendous...
To be changed from being what it is!
And only those afraid to confront it,
Will attempt to make the truth seem...
An unexpected seasonal phenomenon.
'Aren't those the same trees,
We've seen year after year...
And appearing never to change?
Or lose its leaves?
We are in the midst of Winter.
What 'gives' with them? '
~Well...
Taking another perspective,
Think of them this way...
What else do they have in common with life? ~
'I did not come here to be quizzed.
Or have my beliefs tested.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem