Nothing's forever eternally here
Yesterdays will go in to its lost sleep
What you thought extinct might though be close near
With each bouquet of true fewness to keep
Fallen walls with ashes remnants and ruins
Flowers between the steaming and burning
Each turbid morning of lives misdoin's
Digest of times between and turning
Every footstep in to the nonbeing
To the artillery of cloudy shade
Faces of hollow smoldering desire
To a new future of ways foreseeing
Never your option - but what from it's made
Ignite the fields of tomorrow's new fire
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
feelings come and go and may have nothing to do with....the goal is to spend quality, consistent time with God, not to feel good about it. nice penned. Mary