The weather forecast did not foresee
The clouds of climatic reality.
Separating possibility
From probability
Distilling away genuinity
Pulling for spirituality.
Wandering in crosses and ticks
One can't always know
But can believe
Faith proven wrong results in grief.
There seems to be no use in faith
As fate may not change
But we can't move forward
Without being shoved back.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem