I did not scrawl my words on the strand
Knowing the shifting nature of sand.
Not even the bark of a hardwood tree
Could offer enough permanence to me.
I wrote them in stone with deep, deliberate line,
Hard carved, wide gouges the fixed rock would confine.
Waters descended on my solid foundation;
The might of my faith only had gemination.
Not just pride, but hubris, foolishness, absurd folly
To think my faith was as unsinkable as Molly.
The incessant downpour came, endless, relentless.
The lines of the letters, they narrowed and regressed.
The stone smooth and blank, my words not an emblem,
I long still refused to forget them.
The deluge endured, my words weren't enough;
Before it dried, the words' sources were snuffed.
Now the blank boulder's staring at me;
Am I now stranded or finally free?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem