The sawdust lay upon the floor
Each speck was well defined.
'Thanks be to trees, ' one said aloud,
'That we are nothing more! '
But one poor speck just would not rest,
'There was a plan! ' cried he.
'We're not just dirt the wind blows 'round, '
God loves us don't you see? '
So all the specks contributed
To God's anointed specks
Until the day the trash was burned
And all God's specks were dead.
i NEVER thought sawdust pieces made much sense when they spoke! and that restless one sounds kind of conceited. don't she? and here i thought it was God who died! who knew? bri ;)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i'm tempted to write an echo, but it is too late. i'm now sitting in my underwear, or part of me is, and it is almost nighty-night time. i'm glad i revisited this one. specks, UNITE! bri :)