perhaps
when one is conscious of
an impending death,
time becomes a
line thinning into
lips sealing
itself
one falls out of
words
settles upon a chasm
of silence
trying to forget
what good is there that remains
in life
imagining what is next
a door that opens
to someone waiting bringing light
upon his hands
signaling you to follow
and never look back
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem