The little alien cried - then cool grey resignation
took over so, like a machine, I relayed two short
texts, into English; to be checked & polished by
two of our most revered administrators who love
language as a product of edict & strict regulation
& thus look forward to heaven as a thick book of
legislation while I dream of heaven as freedom
Meantime a soft mist of fatigue sifts down my
mind and encloses my feelings in safe bubbles
which keep them out of sight so only the red-hot
motivation remains & everything else is unreal
the concept of time is bent, the fabric of reality
is ripped and only smoky pathways glimmer
like far-off lighting showing the road ahead
One of these probable smoky pathways will
be chosen as reality and see my tears when
taking leave of my child; thereafter I shall be
reconciled & live life as required - resetting
my course by the lodestar of love and still
continuing my search for the pearly sheen
of sweet, safeguarding Wisdom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem