Sometimes I feel,
Like a grain of sand
On a giant beach
By an endless sea.

Sometimes I feel,
Like a grain of salt
Seasoning’s savor
On a mundane menu.

Sometimes I feel,
Like a grain of sense
In a cold cacophony
Of violent voices.

Sometimes I feel,
Like a grain of wheat
That the master planted
To rise again.

One thing I know.
Despite the many questions
The life most worth living
Goes against the grain.

May 27th– In Turkey