Creation
Is an ongoing process
A mighty oak
That has stood
For more than a century
Will in time
Decay and die
And be toppled
By some gale force wind
But the space
Its demise
Has freed
In the forest canopy
Will allow in
Sufficient sunlight
So other trees
That are mere saplings
Can grow up
And reach
For the heavens.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem