His island is a heart shaped rock
Waves pound upon it and beat.
"Here again", "you and I gawk".
Barefooted, paddling, our feet.
We walk out to meet His heart
Our gowns foaming white fan-out
We aren't the first flowers to impart:
Some-loves-firmament, forced-out.
From nothing, our waves return.
In one circling, other, dimension
Far beyond, any island tavern,
We're castaway's reef, plankton-
That cannot swim against a current.
Star Wanderers are we His blood
The body of rock that is cognizant
Bubbling life; out of unthinking mud.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem