Idly drifting in the wind,
The little unhinged seed weaved Serenely through the trees.
Meekly
With surrender
Without a struggle.
No one could reach
No one could stumble upon it.
It stayed high above everything
That lived on the ground.
Looking down at the torment ridden Beings, the little seed sighed.
Pity, it thought,
They don't know what power there is
in weakness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a solitude of hope revealing yet! smooth drifting like the wind in the dunes....there is always the hope to sublime reality in the making...excellent gesture of deep transformation... a 10/10