When Everything Is Gone, It Remains To Be Poem by MARIE CLAIN

To be like the assorted flower,
Waiting for the first drops of rain

To be like the pale color fish,
Waiting for the first rays of the moon

To be like the motionless tree,
Waiting for the first breaths of the wind

To be like the icy mountain,
Waiting for the first notes of the summer

To be like the captive crisalid,
Waiting for the opening of his wings

To be like the silent bird,
Waiting for the first light of the dawn

To be like the tarciturn waves,
Waiting for the first currents

To be like the impatient child,
Waiting for the first words of his parents

To be like the lonely horizon,
Waiting for the first glances of those who hope

To be like sleepy eyes,
Waiting for the sandman

To be like you,
To be like me
To be like us

Waiting for the sign of a new enlumination
To be reborn from all that is no longer

But who will have to be