As much as they promise me eternal life,

however much they attest I shall live in Eternity,

I confess I love much more this body I was given,

as well as the dearest, sometimes also enchanted,

way of living we created for ourselves.

I am not able to conceive if there are other worlds

or other beings – people who think, speak and love

just like us.

I only know that an old book says we were made

on the sixth day of sainted and sacred a week,

in the image and likeness of the Creator.

Then, I think we could apply to be His sole heirs,

and, still on our dear earth, enter into possession

of the promised land, that Canaan where milk

and honey flow, and evil never finds shelter.


This poem and all others at this blog, authored by Edilson Afonso Ferreira ©


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