Either way the finger points,
Or the wind blows...
Change is here to stay.
And those with nostalgic wishes,
Hoping for a return of every yesterday lived...
May discover they are regarded no more than twigs,
Discarded from trees...
Only The Creator has made to allow them to breathe.
We arrive to leave as visitors!
With many disrespecting the act of this fact.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem