nobody meets God
because he is up in the mind
an abode of the boundless
and where the wisest of conscience lies
while we are in the heart
where world shrouds us in
the conscience perpetually tries
to show his concern
for the other by pleading
with him to follow the lighted
path he has prescribed for him
the other, though, could only see
the world veers and veers towards
his closest allies, the
senses and gratifications
that mass around him
like soldiers out to
conquer, to take him over
between crossroads
of heaven and hell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem