As is known with most great mysteries
there are hard parts to conceive.
Like with creatures from the deep sea
we run because we can't believe.
Just how many stop to see,
that beyond all of the mystique,
we are running from our fantasies?
If I then can stand irreverent,
and have all fear be reticent,
Then my fear's benevolent
and it appears it's relevant
to stand upon a sinking ship
and drown within magnificent
disbelief.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem