My house and my mill-
the two poles for my bullock in me
to move around,
feel good to crush the oil out
to fuel the woven and the machines-
significant for my sun and moon to rise .
My moon and my wife-
the two poems for my restricted poet-
waiting in me
to cross over the line of control
drawn on the floor of my heart
by my earthly materialistic wisdom,
to dignify their beauty
when I find myself blissful on the roof
and in the bed.
My children and my goodness
the two plants
germinated together
on my fertile land
to grow and grow up to my heaven,
outstretching their hands to touch
the blessings of The God
to sweep the badness out of my smiling heart
assuming it
a foundation stone in building a peaceful world.
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