They call it life,
Others call it strife
Some are born
Others stillborn
Some see not light of day
Others see days astray
Some witness not the ogre of old age
Others compose their own adage
Yet, all is life
With or without strife
And none knows its location
Or even its deathly translocation
If life after death is,
Then there really no death is
For life can only be a transition
Defined by zillions of one motion
None owns life
Except the I Am that is life
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem