When He held up on high to them what was good
God looked and smiled at the wise waiting stood
Broke that cold morning the mirror their food
The wise scattered fast each on own boot
Mirror then polished by man's own hand
Of truth what was left became but a brand
Truth died a slow death for in each hand
Then all looked up for in Houses was bland
The chosen took power to polish again
Wise for own funding certain ones train
Each on a mission designing your brain
Went about power the ultimate stain
Home God sat looking for in His dream
With angels alone designing a beam
A fire they had placed by a stream
Piece of a heart choosing their team
It came about later that by man's will
Turned on each other for the high bill
Out reached a mad hand feeling the chill
The warmth of cold hand held beauty still
Truth is today that what you believe
Was once inside the mightiest sleeve
Shattered for all to use as relief
Too much too see will only cause grief
20l4
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem