Deep,
Into beginning
Oblivion fondles hope
Slowly,
gently
And faithfully too.
Hope,
Embraces time
Slicing its skin
And dripping
Through the pores
From deep
Within the yolk
…a serrated linen.
Time,
The snail that treks
Million miles per second
Commutes oblivion
Into full emptiness.
Emptiness,
A sibling to space
Spreads wide
Corrugated mat
Of the earth
Twisting hips
At lustful dawn
To whisper the time to hatch.
Space,
Seduces faith
To mate with nothing
And forge the cry of time
Hence,
The 'hatch' is fully done.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem