This play is a parable about human greed striking at the roots that hold together the soil in our survival terrains. Hollow faith can scarce open doors to salvation; look not to the heavens but unto and among yourselves for saviours, the Gods seem to be telling troubled humans 
A play by Shivadas Poilkavu
Thich Nhat Hanh said once that “if you are a poet you will clearly see that there is cloud floating in this sheet of paper. Without a cloud there will be no rain, without rain, no trees and without trees, no paper.” If we take a moment to see the story in reverse, we will get to see the poems in the clouds. So that the trees, rain and clouds all would return. These seed keepers see the poems in the soil and the seeds. It is the poetry of bodily connection, celebrating life. Dreaming and prayer for its sustenance. Who can stay blind to this grace?
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