Bare wooden facts stand like forests of our own making,
directing our paths towards total enlightenment and joy.
Figuring our daily undertakings carefully, calculating
their purposes according to priorities, and landing
amidst creative forces of nature.
Sending fragments of togetherness into deepest space,
fully expecting them to return in one piece.
Forgetting the alliance a body has with it's soul,
hiding in corner pockets without untoward goals,
strictly in adherence to existential policies of life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem