When the soul is blessed times three
many see the sea they wish 'ed to be.
When you shave this soul but once, twice
where then can this soul now flee in life your death.
Why do you then seek it's death in word your need?
Your need never grew less, your lips bit it thus to bleed.
Bleeding always for your need it led you more upon it.
When your need grew it bloomed into more than need.
You slowly grew it's death in your care, agelessly you
grew it never really seeing it for you.
Blessed are you whom would slay it even in it's death,
it's you, it fed..it was just your need of it..that made you full..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Interesting analogy, and very surreal. A 10+++++. Love & hugs, Barbara