Are we up?
Down.
Or in the middle?
Are we closer to the front,
Than to the back.
And...
If there is an exit!
Where is that at?
And where are we in this maze?
Inside this tremendous thought process,
We feed.
To have us bleed,
Like specks of dust...
In conflict!
Does anyone who is out there in the EAST,
Care?
Or in the WEST of this Cosmos.
What about in the SOUTH?
Perhaps the NORTH?
And if they knew...
Have they already come forth?
And since we are cells dwelling within one.
Would they be too huge for us to notice.
They have to notice us!
That's a given.
That's a must.
We've done so much to agitate,
With our polluted ways!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem