if your loving be
...the face of God,
then i am the prodigal,
...without name,
.....or country.
your silence drowns
...the small child in me,
......and leaves the body
for the birds of prey!
my destination,
...lost in the sands,
i leave no footprints behind.
...nothing more,
.....than a wisp of smoke,
planting icicles in time's garden!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Are we not all prodigal sons and daughters untill finally God comes and takes us home? That would surely be the greatest day of our lives! Untill then we are just lost children making circles in the sand, I think. Another marvelous poem, sir, leaving food for thought!