the hair on its own
is a line of dead cells
but when it's on the head
it's part of a living spirit
the sand on its own is a
startling patch of the reality
of the non living
but put in the water, put in air
light and seeds and it
becomes a part of the living world
take away any of these the living entity
dwindles into a dead plane
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
John, a very profound piece. Well written. Ian