It is the early hours and, I dream of God.
His face is not seen.
But, his robed form is powerful.
He walks through the Garden Of Eden
between the adoration of flora and fauna.
With Him comes light.
Always profound light.
And, the animals bow to Him.
The animals shift back on bended knee
to their hips.
Light warms the olive trees, the cinnamon
and the figs grow plump on their limbs.
Light, always, light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem