A spark of life, a gift so pure,
From hands unseen, forever sure.
We're made to be, in a special way,
A likeness held, from night to day.
To tamper now, with nature's art,
To change the soul, or mend the heart,
Through clever tools, and science' bright gleam,
Can feel like stepping outside a sacred dream.
For in our making, something grand,
A fragile trust, within our hand.
To mold and shape, beyond what's known,
Might feel like seeds that aren't our own.
The image true, we're meant to bear,
A precious trust, beyond compare.
So let us walk with humble grace,
And honor life, in time and space.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem