You never lose your innocence
until you walk toward death.
The heartbeat stills, the void immense,
airless swirling, earth without breath.
Innocense only shattered
in that loss without recourse,
you wander thru weaved tatters
happily ever after shattered by remorse.
Though life may mar the surface
the child still remains.
Without this woe the seasons pass
and forever we are the same.
The writings can't provide all the wisdom sought
only the funeral precedes life's baptismal font.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
like the title and its tie to baptism/conversion. Ironic to link that to the conversion of innocence. Interesting.