If we mirror the images of Him,
Then He must be like us. Feels lonely
And asks for sympathy with stormy sighs.
But selfishly we hide ourselves under shades
When he cries hard, tearing those black clouds.
He is like a white light that when diverged is seen as a spectrum of seven colors. We call it a rainbow. We are different colors of the same rainbow and we will be converged again we shall all become a white light once again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wonderful imagery. NIce depiction. A stunning poem shared. Thanks for sharing. ....10