Towards the end of our time
We miss the friendship and food;
The days behind are but silent thoughts
And the months seem endless.
People meander on the eternal road
Yet some of us walk so straight.
Little people run on it first
And slow down afterwards.
Children seek help on the eternal road
And want more kindness to be shone.
The road is kind if you walk on it
And not sprint or dash like some who dare.
The end of time shall be near,
When thoughts are collected
And death occurs,
Making your home with the grave.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem