an acorn contains the universe,
a moth contains the night.
the flicker and flame
of small twigs burning
returns light to the stars.
the rumble of distant thunder
in every leaf that falls.
a prayer held in every
dropp of rain... a baby
born in the face of
every mountain's movement...
the depth of love raging
beneath the snows of winter....
death, or spring..... time decides....
each has it's own cup!
each has it's own flame!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Omg this is a beauty. I was reading and came to the part 'beneath the snows of winter' thought, that's a great ending- then read the next lines and thought: THAT'S a great ending! Good poetry, friend, good poetry is what we've got right here.