As one walks along the road
While thrusting both arms and legs
Back and forth like a toad
One comes up on the verge.
The verge of the last vision
Of the beautiful things one sees
And soon one will have tension
To see the forests oceans and seas.
One,two and three...the game goes
What it means is only counting
We all of us counting our own days
The inevitable job we are always doing.
Under this stagnant frozen blue sea
That hangs right above our heads
Although we either love or hate,you and me
We can never ourselves hide.
The stagnant frozen blue sea
Is a powerful mysterious mirror
Which reveals all that have to be seen
By God,without any possible error.
Author notes
no
What is the meaning of your own life?
Comments
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Appreciation
I appreciate the truth in this stuff.You seem to be a God conscious man.....Okay,let us count our own days!
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