For them God is not sleeping but dead,
buried in the coffin, graves of eternity;
Somewhere in the black holes of space,
beyond the tenebrous clutches of time.
Forgotten, along with their prayers.
But sill the cries of the orphans,
like the voice of innocence and hope
as if by words to awake the Silence.
To bring back the light the darkness,
like a kiss to a sleeping princess
who was once victim to the dying poisons.
A kiss that holds secret
the promise of eternal life.
Copyright@2009 by Mark Anthony St. Rose. All rights reserved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem