Walking away from this life, fists unclenched,
steps unhesitant, whiling in moments every
second on thoughtful choking plains.
Discrepant chance in a strangle-hold, afraid to
venture forth and be of this world, preferring
blank unknowingness of a future in space, death
calling up from depths of sacrifice and yearning.
Solemnly providing the rest, much needed, from
this world of questions, rising and falling within
breasts of desire.
Scaring the little life held gingerly inside, ready to
toss it all for a moments glance of heaven.
Stranded, alone, turning away from this life, fists
unclenched, steps unhesitant, never failing.
Walking towards an oblivion meant for very few.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem