AA T
On the barren land
Lies the barren form
Smooth and endless
Again
It almost is but isn't.
With silent noise
Like a subtle cut through deep water
With feeble sunlight
Filtering through
I descend
Talons touching nothingness
Beside this beauty
That is termination
Born with ingenious things
That let me
Take the flesh from the bone
So simply
Wanting to gain the intelligence this skin once saw
He stares at me
Eyes like tinted glass
Pleading
If you shall not let me live
Then let me die
Alone
Slender form stretched
Telling to me this beauty
That is termination
White lips and red teeth
Asking, and answering
The vulture, termination.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem