O we mourn all the broken things in our lives,
Of which there are invariably many,
Accrued, alas, over a very long time!
Some things I guess we cannot repair it seems.
O wounded hearts and psyches are hard to mend,
And often a judgement made can never bend!
Yet, intermittently, a healing light can
Appear through the cracks, and it tends to restore
A certain order, that we can understand.
It's the key to opening perception's doors.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem