it does not bode well, this time within time.
here in the corridors of lost hope and distant dreams,
myth and metaphor conspire to daze and confuse;
the eternity of a moment rushing down the halls of apathy in lush melody -
freeze-frame in the march of souls to judgement.
beyond the borders of safe haven,
the world impaled on its own axis,
words no longer give voice to reason
and the silence in my head grows deafening -
the nobility of sacrifice an exercise in frustration.
with the haunting indifference of divine good riddance,
past and present walk hand in hand, footnotes waiting to happen.
from traces of memory to the heart of prophecy,
the future remains uncertain and unwritten,
subject to the arbitrary edit of occasion without regard to reason -
time resets itself in anticipation of new endings to old beginnings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem