I find myself helplessly shackled to impunity,
imbibed with tempestuous freedom,
granted by serfs who valiantly lay alms,
To extol lax equality mindful to proselytize.
Yet the hours grind forward as I combust beneath an archaic sun,
listless seconds spark from Dan to Beersheba twinged in crimson tides,
fulminating under spittle stars,
to merit the faith justified at Bethlehem.
Nevertheless the massacre of the innocent lured me to her stead,
for tomorrows eucharist confines me to her dulce bread,
trapped in a convent of convictions,
Where one must adhere to goodness and surmise madness.
This is the sanitarium of freedom,
Where dementia resents epileptic bouts of lucidity,
This is the open road where our thoughts run naked to escape servitude.
Society sneers as we cross borders and leave hydrophobic gnarls behind,
Atheist succumb to our holiness as detriment to there indifference,
Yet we stand firm in our suffrage cloth,
Always gazing towards the lords forgiving wrath.
My heart warbles as I pirouette into a distant horizon,
Knowing with supreme verve and flexibility,
that four maidens harbour my love amiss on effaced silhouette,
that tenders to heaven with fancy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem