As with breathing
so with superstition
a lack
causes their rise and fall...
its rise and fall.
A lack
causes the rise and fall
of both.
It rises again,
superstition:
we never can know all;
and falls:
we're again in wonder's thrall...
wonders' thrall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I agree we instinctively need something to believe in to make sense of the world. I sometimes think religion is the way the church harnesses superstition and our primitive fears. ! 0/10 BB