Blank sheet of birth
lies on glass, blackened,
ready for imprint.
Each pressure leaves
a trace on paper.
Each contact leaves
a pattern.
No movement is
without consequences.
In the end you can
read it clearly: life.
Cool. I like the No movement... line. Ultrasound? If this was a Zen Koan that would be my guess.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
in simple words it is life so truth and such a truth we can not avoid and escape from! and at the end yes it is LIFE! thank you for sharing Poet! ! 10+++++!