The state has hired a wedding planner,
To build a statue in honor of all the things forever lost
In the gaping canyon between self and truth,
Or the tiny space in the middle of before you were born and when you die.
On a marble plaque is inscribed words that sting,
“everything is everything.”
So celebrate this remembering, and ask,
How is anything?
In middle of no beginning or end,
Everything is everything.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem