I believe
that I can
walk between the spaces
in the walls, slide by electrons
dodging atoms as I go
drawn fine by the stretch
of faith in insubstantial things
that make the world go round
or stop short for conversation
that puckers up the lips
it is so bitter; but I have faith
that in the morning sun
will rise because it did today
and no one sent a memo
saying darkness was eternal
from now on, and I believe
that Man is good and could
be full of love if freed of chains
that hold his vision hard
in one direction only
horse with blinders
so it will not shy
and tilt the cart
to show the apples
are all tainted by the serpent,
the angels have all gone
because the World is home
to Man and now it is his job
to make it grow so in
a thousand thousand years
the seeds left here will flower,
or will we wither on the vine,
our talent rusting
in the rain
of heaven's tears?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem