From Dust
Life is dust
Without it we will not exist
Ask my cleaner.
No, don`t ask her
She is paid to remove it
A dusty book on the shelf
Are words waiting to be read
It has waited so long it`s
the author is gone, dust, but still has something
he wanted to say
before he is as forgotten as the rainforest
59 million years ago.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem