the cutting edge of truth,
sharper than diamond;
with no sympathy for slivers
of illusions that fall.
our greatest fear lurks
in smoke-filled mirrors...
we spend all our lives
running from ourselves!
but death takes no prisoners,
no half-truths or pretensions.
we are but what we have given
when this house of cards falls in!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem