one thing that i miss
is not found in you,
it is something, yet it is
illusive, like a an eclipse
in seconds
i dim the world
only to disappear and give
you back
your own light
but you will miss what i miss
and i come back only
once every thousand years
of your life
sort of
you do not find me and i do not
really find you
we meet and we miss again
like parallel lines
always going seeing and talking
and in the silence of it all
always unflinching
two lines that never
meet
this is the price that we pay
for our
sacred hypocrisy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem