Ambivalent, not willing to condone
For the sky stretches far into lands remote
Far off into lands unknown
Which only monoliths of lies seem to denote
Where a lonely man stands alone
As ashes stain his black coat
He calls out to me
Not in shouts nor in cruel words
Merely shrilling out my name
Passing it onto the blank birds
White clouds that stain the sky
I never asked for it
The gift of afterlife
Yet again I am forced to repay it in kind
Yet again I am inducted into strife
New dawns arise only to embrace me
To remind and uphold
The transiency of time upon old debris
Pillars of this world
I should have some strength left
Just to hold it together
The horizon and the mountain
So I wouldn't give into theft
And drift away with the clouds
Even the leaves, they understand
In their opaque whispers and calls
That I am a victim of the underhand
With my very own arms broken
It lies dead beside me
The fear once past my reflection
That once filled the spaces between worlds
I left to myself without dedication
I was meant for so much more
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem