I walked along the emerald sea,
Chirping birds and buzzing bees,
Saw the moist morning leaves,
And pondered what was to be.
I stood on a cliff, tall and high,
And saw the man, for he was nigh.
Without him, life is but a lie,
Instead of joy, despair and a sigh.
Remember he told us ancient lore?
Of faraway lands and distant shores?
He had me gaping in utter awe,
And always always asking for more.
That is nothing, but a flash in time,
Of when I knew but one to nine.
But without him, life is a bad lime,
Sour, bitter and nothing tastes fine.
Why?
For he is the concerned,
the caring, the calm and cool;
The shunned,
the feared, the callous and the fool.
He is nothing, and everything.
He is a firefly in the night,
Comfort in terror’s might,
A shady veil for the light,
A friend in a fight.
Who is she or he?
Who is greater than we?
Who can make us see?
Who can set us free?
Who? It is He.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow! the flow of words is superb!