I’ve traveled a stony path
stumbling, falling,
weeping and clawing my way
to high green pastures.
Leaving behind
bits and pieces of myself
the baggage of a lifetime;
now tossed aside
lost to a
higher purpose.
Only light vessels
climb to the high places.
They still bleed on the rocks
but rejoice,
for the master’s voice
is sweeter
the higher
a soul reaches
into heaven.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem