The impermance of salvation,
begins to bleed at the imperfect seems of dilusion.
I beg involuntarily as my body shakes and strokes.
I once believed in faith,
in a man sent to redeem mankind from it's own hands.
Foolish concoction once born from the hand of men,
as guns and weapons to steal and rape.
From once was a time that we were saved,
we perverted our future with uncertainy and good intentions.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
We can give up the perversion but please keep the good intentions I think this is a strong poem critical of unreasonalbe dogma and rituals. Too many people, in trying to do away with the clutter throw also away the essentials. I wish more could keep spirituality and good intention alive Very thorught provoking poem.