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We are the miracles that God made
To taste the bitter fruit of Time
We are precious.
And one day our suffering
Will turn into the wonders of the earth.

There are things that burn me now
Which turn golden when I am happy.
Do you see the mystery of our pain?
That we bear poverty
And we are able to sing and dream sweet things.

Ben Okri

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 06, 2004 at 10:26 am. You can skip to the end and leave a response.

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By Blogger Mshairi at 1:34 pm

I like this poem.    

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