when the die is cast, living with the situation linger on.
when love turn sours, hatred is birthed,
when the truth is push under the rug, lies & deceits show up as make up.
when the strong becomes feeble, the weak parade its pride.
when wealth is abused, poverty becomes his first name.
What then is in a moment without a moment?
what then is in a memory of bitterness?
what then is the answer to the fallen joy of a being?
Can a man function outside its source?
will there ever be peace in a world of chaos?
if you are looking for a rest, i know of a mattress-Jesus.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An equivalent of the mothers lap. Thanks for sharing.