Lips burning again to speak,
Words fervently tossing,
Fingers attempting to sculpt
Life's wisdom into daily clay.
Beings of Divine,
Man meets his years on Earth,
Enticed by life's cinematic circumstances,
Squeezed between the spider arms
Of vacuous happens,
Endeavoring to keep what fears to quit having,
Building bastions for its own comfort
Losing himself in a world of things,
Striving to become a thick book with fulfilled dreams
Realizing not that,
He ain't a small fragment
Bound to raise, fall and disappear
In the cracks of the universe,
Slurped within a span of time,
But a star born from Love's mystical eye,
Which holds the entire sky inside.
And so,
The Way, the Truth and Life
Is shown to us,
Those that See.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A well penned write of its own insight. Don't all who seek the so-called truth sit there wisely proclaiming? +++10