Not at home
seams erode,
The motion
of time
draws magnetically,
Knowledge
that you ponder,
for self, and that alone,
Can never ever be
clearer,
than for yourself,
a free agent,
Whether blind
one second,
illuminated the next,
The hurt that death obliges,
you cannot return to this land,
Deepest space
unforgivable
moments torn
by the most
destitute of humans,
(without souls?)
No tear in the fabric
prevents you,
That some mesmerising
belief should swallow you up,
Or displace you along,
some forgotten road in time...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
We all look at life and death so differently. Excellent write.