Do I get my hands on the key to time? will
I become a ray of light bent by gravity
on its way to the ultimate wormhole, a black hole
that sucks me in and emits me on the other side,
bright and moving in one straight line? will a
dazzling radiance take place within me,
illuminating me as an encyclopaedic revelation
elevating me indisputably to a place by the sun?
will I drift like a black dot on the face of chance?
do I become an eternal reflection in a dead future?
a ring of memory playing for all eternity?
a longitudinal vibration? a surface smear?
will I flow into nothingness like ink on a blotter?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A free flight of creativity on winged imagination. An insightful creation. Thanks for sharing, Mark.