Churning turning and failing
Now my time is spent,
my clock with no hands to tell the tale
my skins high cost rent,
im free didn’t you know
as im leaving my rotting
skin and bones
fly my life eternally,
above the clouds but below the sea,
for what we are or as we perceive,
we lead a life of delusional reality
left the mortal coil and unravaled my mind
my hearts a heart of valentine
living upon that star of mine
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I agree that we life like a clock... once we lose a hand (sense) we lost track of who we are! We may still fall in love and dream, but the sessence of it dwindles as time goes by! High marks.