There is no livin between what twists
within the deepening narrowness of this,
All splendor lost in reckless detail
as toothen bites to no avail.
Padded hammers fall upon the meek
they tie the tounge if one should speak,
All glances kept to crawl the floor
count your steps or take no more.
Something died that day I knew
an empty feeling inside which grew,
I look to within that barren place
and just one rose grows in that space.
Bleeding red all colors true,
as the paling of my soul to You.
2005
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem