To pass this way I'm not inclined
Where then my soul do fly
To a place unknown and undefined
To be chastised and made to cry.
Confrontation with my end of age
My future submerged in the past
My swan song on an unturned page
A new day the die not yet cast.
Misguided steps inviting despair
Forgiving hands not there to hold
I can't find words to say a prayer
Too late for me to avoid the scold.
Three score and ten is mine to dwell
Mortality is silently passing me by
The wrong decision is my death knell
God bless the place my soul do fly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A grand soliloquy of a man in seventies introspecting options before his soul at the evening of life and thereafter. A spiritual write. Thanks for sharing.10 points.