Painting today, a tiring day, and a curious picture. I wrote this poem too.
I Am My Cells
My cells are not aware of me.
They live and die and let me be.
In citadels of me they grow.
My cells are great but they don't know.
In throngs they pulse to their own beat,
they thrive, divide, respire and eat.
Their lives seem empty by themselves
but they make me, I am my cells.
