I don't know what it is like to be a tree
...and have the wind rustling through my ten thousand leaves
I don't know what it is like to fall like a raindrop
...into a muddy puddle and lose myself
I don't know what it is like to be a moth
...and flutter around a neon light with great vigour knocking my face time and again on the warm bright glass
All I know is that it is the same ever-seeking spark
I am what everything else is
... and like everything else I live in this harmonious cacophony
... of being different within the overwhelming sameness
This constant flux of experience that I call my 'self'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem