Needles and Bottles of Ink...with these, lines are drawn Deep
Names, Dates and Emblems of Faith, through the SKin let it seep
The hurt don't really matter, though it bleeds and burn after...
'Tis after all something that don't fade; One momentous reminder
Scripts written on Paper and Ink, are nothing compared to these
Mixed with Tears and Blood; In pain, these advocates found Peace
Like Warriors they proudly carry these accounts of Life; their emissary
The Art of Courage, Love, Happiness, or Sorrow; It lasts, they do tarry
'Tis indeed something that don't vanish in time; Definitely it ain't a crime to feel,
And hold on to something dear... Make it a part of you, either mythical or real
Though It's not a measuring stick for the brave nor the misfits, give judgment I don't dare
These lines, these hues, What's written and drawn by artists; Poets with so much to bare
The Figures, The words, The Numbers, The Names...Each with a Meaning
Prayers & Places, Saints & Faces...So I've Been told; Have their own beginning
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem