We all are estranged to life
in ways far beyond ourselves,
no matter the persistence with which we wonder
it never forgives us for simply being.
Death is life's
double entendre,
vast, metaphoric,
unavoidably cold.
At the outer edge of the universe
-as at the edge of night's darkness-
we come only to look back and attempt understanding
in the dim light lingering on from long dead stars.
There may be no answers. Nor even
any worthy questions of sincerity,
for in the final analysis, it may come to be,
not what, why or how, rather only
"To where? ".
A great poem with a great question, is death the end or is there something else waiting for us, could be a parallel universe where we start where we left off so we don't even know we are dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
indeed, smoky, how can we, finite as we are, encompass all that life is? lines in this poem remind me of my heart song which begins, my eye must take second place. maybe you'll like it. -glen