Seekers visit- cities, hamlets, woods
in search of roots,
play anthropologists' role,
fragments seek whole.
A flashback changes continents,
field days-feed, dreams have grey paints
sepia time enjoys local tunes
easy going life- everyone consumes.
So, here we stand tall
over bones and muscles of them all.
Cloned trees from cultured seeds
brighten up at the thoughts of their breeds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I liked this poem. Once we find truths, we feel satisfied, but not long after the curiosity of our soul boils over every brim of the pot containing the truth we found and the search of the seeker goes on and on. Thought provoking. Very well written.