We are made up of things which from time to time do indeed shatter infinitely.
Infinitely of course, being seemingly - is yet still tragically real.
We are of hopes, dreams, ambition, fragile bone, and most of all humanity.
Humanity of course, the root word being human - is yet somehow an overarching concept, being that not all who are human possess humanity.
Additionally to trivial things, humanity too can indeed shatter infinitely.
The problem with humanity is not fragility, but is rather that it is based on what is ‘seemingly.’
Infinity is just as partial to creation as it is to destruction, for something must first be created before it can be destroyed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem