An unknown scribe composes -
The epistle of our life,
Upon the virgin manuscript of our destiny;
Slips our soul into the envelope of our body
And posts us down to earth.
No matter how desperately we fret
In the darkness of our confinement,
Once the envelope is sealed,
There is no respite;
The adhesive remains strong,
Until our own course we live.
Only thereafter, is the envelope unsealed,
And our soul is liberated from corporal imprisonment,
As a white pigeon released from captivity
Spreads its wings to embrace the clear blue sky,
Breathing drafts of freshly brewed air,
Infused with radiant daylight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.