the maze's ceaseless amazements
spirals of misty woolen blinds
the web of spiders tightening their grip
the mind a foggy wire mesh
run, run, run, run
backward glances only manage to confound
lot's wife didn't make it out alive
look ahead with Joshua's faith, then maybe your praise will crumble walls
run, run, run, run
your heart demands it.
the blackness blinding tangible swells of pride
those fingers of dread and doubt grab hold
but the blinding light just beneath the surface that you should imprint in your blood
so your soul be the broken record of a wrenching rendition of hope
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem