The body is a bag of blood and bones
tossed into life by karma, chance or fate.
Time, space and matter mid the mossy stones,
in the eye of the cosmos, need not wait.
<i>Deitas</i> is the Lord, the architect,
glanced at through plankton in the aeon-old sea,
through the portholes of sunken longships, wrecked
mid red sea whips, blue kelp and blue-green algae.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem