Then, what nourishes the bee, but pollen
From the gracious, mature flower.
What twists the stolid oak, but age,
Weathering youth to wisdom.
Curves of Time minds. Many Paths.
One, unbidden, thought changes all.
Multiply spokes of this Wheel.
Unborn Universes', colors', first gasp.
Breaths of creativity appear. Tentative
New steps...flowers bloom. Oaks
Stand storms down.
Answers from, of, Sky Minds' multiplications.
Loose yourself in the air you breathe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem