embroidered lines of red gold and green
there is nothing left in between
i pray every day for salvation
stuck between death and creation
silver and gold and incense and myrrh
Life can become such an endless blurr
Stopped so suddenly and held so tight
bathed in exceedingly brightening light
a joke, a laugh, a song, a poem, a cry
and then with a gasp we suddenly die
stuck between death and creation
this calls for a libation
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Is there an interim-plane that we are ethereally transported into...a temporary buffer of existence that serves as a finite segway to infinity...? Your work here, eptly & innovatively taps the concept of such an existence...Solid Work, Beau! FjR ***