Vulnerable. Still in fog
Nothing was mine. None was god.
We had become stones.
The light sits on the
wall, to see the ash coated world,
living in black holes.
See, where we have come
Face masks will help to hide the defeat.
The cauldron was made ready.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The penultimate line expresses everything. An expressive poem...5 stars