My words, my visions less
than ordaniry strange but
true. All is a dream a strange
reality filled with lies and
fools. Blessed by fortune and
time I lye naked before the
sun. Hoping for young lust
and fearing love. I wash my
hands of yesterdays sin.
Along the sea shore I walk
alone praying to a god that I
know is untrue.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
all along the watchtower. Inventive poem. best care, sjg