Darkness creeps across my lids
heavy with the burden of time.
Tightly closed I block the sun
and think of better times.
Times when death was not around
nor shouts of war my only sounds.
I drift into a blackened void
and smell the sweetened air.
Flowers sprout as I take it in
a cool fresh wind beats my brow.
I think of all the faceless forms
fight the urge to howl.
This journey through life
an exhausting feat.
Traveled more in mind...
than road.
You end up
a soul-less shell.
And nothing
more to show.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Those last two stanzas are right-on! Great words.