The gleam of new boots are easily accessible.
Sitting there, safe and sound waiting to be purchased on the store shelf.
It begins with the eyes.
Trying on different hues of black and brown.
Thinking how cute these would look.
And most of all, how they would feel.
The comfort of footprints curling
Into leather.
Practical, heavy.
A sense of comfort, that peers into the clouds.
Separated from the frame of your glasses.
The unique mosaic that covers your face. Without further distinction of how beautiful dreams can be.
Without further obstruction to block the sun from always shining heaven's light on you.
Now most boots run big or small.
Some made of snakeskin or even ostrich.
Some are even sold in pink or orange.
But these. These are crystal.
To always remind you that God always has his light shone the brightest on you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem