Looking down the barrel of a telescope
made of time, slipping through space.
Would you be brave,
turn around and stay?
You rose through the ashes of battle
as time creeps slowly upon your heals.
Slipping time, strips layer by layer;
beam's of energy fly from your fingertips.
Bursts of light stream from your eyes,
memories casting out into the vast
spaces in between the layers of heaven,
that's where you are.
We collide multiple times.
Star's are born from the pressure.
Rocket through space you've got
mud on your face.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem