First there's the dot
Then alight another dot
Dot to dot makes a line
Line to line makes a plane
And so we glide onto the plane
With free will and free form
We come across another plane
Into an arc we come about
Through a radius of a circle
We walk non stop
Then we run till we die
With every death we make us run
Did it get us anywhere?
Swirling, Twirling and spiralling
Into speeding metals
and even flying high beyond the clouds
What space-time are we in?
Does it exist when we can't see it?
Let alone not able to feel it
And they say
Welcome to the fourth dimension
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Little bit of science fiction here. I like the ending of the poem best. You brought the idea of the title out best there. Nice idea.