Death and renewal, seen up close and personal-
is fascinating—see-an-ancient forest
smashed, battered by storms, ask what is merciful,
what's-lain-unfair to waste? Here lies that's not proportionate.
The answer, of course, is that everything makes way
everything is pooled-symbiotically
helping make way, as to formulae
build upon the next step chaotically.
No, simply-there is nothing remotely chaotic
everything's in the blueprint, even dead trees
are-here-to-support-life it's symptomatic;
ask the fungi living on the bones of absentees.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem