The stars give course to blood and bone
Which in our nature we think is home
Yet in this science there is more
For despite our suffering we are not alone.
The cross for post moderns a place of ancient gore
Can not compete with almost any store
That God exists or cares to many almost a certain folly
Our vision all prescribed by our wanting more.
I wish that I could claim I'm free
Nor held by a sense of history
With so much in it that is grizzly
It is no wonder that I fear
No wonder that I tremble
At news I read.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem