it stays on my top snugly seated
in a white boney case, hooked onto two
powerful lenses, a pair of sonar and smell detectors
and a bonus taste pad latched onto it
not to mention the central control that
takes messages from all in order to manoevre
the physique in the right direction
but the being that daily whispers?
converses? tiptoes over the corridors
of a hodgepode of mysterious terrains
which triggers fear as well as at times
the ironical blessed dose of courage,
in the chamber of the heart, causing machinery
to crash? is he a harmful virus we are still
learning to clear, or is he the master of a game
on a multi dimensional computer
he so cleverly designed leaving us
in the dark of our own whereabouts?
a new generation computer that works
on a programme fueled by nature
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the post mumeric society created a so call transhumen being- verus from network devices can interfer with the subatomic consiousness but will never affected the De, which is that write substance into the brain- If your top chakra is open, no matter what that device can produce, the virus will die- Vajrapani will be beside your mind.