Cold Marble slabs of unpolished,
precious stone that shapes not
in thy hands even when co-erced...
even when a vision for it is known.
It holds the shape it began with,
its hard to change an ill sighted state...
or the beautiful slanted mound that only
nature creates effortlessly...
Written May 6th 2008.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the gift of God when bestowed upon life seems to be prcious by the shape the decree of divine as yet holds the truth. and the life goes on smooth by the blessings............