We are one percent of water
one percent of beer or barley or blood (any could come first)
one percent of plant: twisted fibre or grass blades or geranium pulled out of flower pots
the rest are ghosts that have walked with us all these years
and have refused to go home
because home has now become our bodies:
one round holed urn,
a ghost town in a war torn city
Source: Enigmatic Global Concept