Possessing absolute power of regeneration,
forcing consumption of it's entirety in one last gasp.
Unfurling haggard flags of past retribution, knowing
their uselessness and sorrow having felt it myself in
empty corridors of progressing life.
There are no paths, no roads, paved with answers of
life, we wend our ways blindly from birth to death
without a clue of where we're going or where we might
end up.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem