With age,
My sword
Is deeply scarred
But its edge
Honed twice as sharp
With age,
My words
Are penned in blood
All flowing
From the heart
With age,
I embrace what
Truth reveals
And am humbled
By its power
With age,
My light burns
Free at last
To illume
—my final hour
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July,2016)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem