If the silence calls, answer it.
Seeping like smoke
i
n
t
o
the veins.
Drained blood vessels
f
i
l
l
e
d
with chemicals.
The body is what it is.
A skin filled skeleton
motivated to carry on.
Even if the
s
o
u
l
asks to be released.
A little boy is playing in his backyard.
Plastic knights and make-believe castles.
His imagination flourishes, thrives;
magic empires he creates in his world.
He does not think about tomorrow.
He does not worry about anything.
I wish I was him again.
Start all over.
Not possible, however.
We can only
w
a
l
k
ahead,
never back.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Time lapses into oblivion but the moment at hand is precious seconds..minutes... that too is ticking away. Time for the soul to make peace and to enjoy God's blessings. St. Augustine said: Our souls will not rest unless it rest in thee. You can thank God for all His blessings on your life..right up to this moment, Chris. Happy Easter! The Lord has risen! We have hope of eternal life.