Contemplations sit on uneven ground,
death rises,
as life loses meaning,
I'm stumbling to higher ground,
I'm losing a battle,
I've fought for so long....
yet I never truly wanted to win.
The contemplations of blade or gun,
jumps of fate, or one final lunge,
To many thoughts run through,
a mind ready to sleep,
forever, or eternally,
let it be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
On our journey through eternity we never really sleep... For life's lessons are never ending... It is only the refusal to learn them that sleeps... Yet only when we question life's very existence do we become more than we ever thought possible... Beautiful poem, well written...