History can only be surmised
never known, the truth lost
in the instant of its making
stretched and pulled into a
precept of perception
fit to a need
subjectively concluded facts
as dry as old bones
without flesh or blood
to give life to a meaning
walking in the shadow and promise
of a bygone age.
~ Laurence Overmire
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem