Sunlight falling against windows, bringing rainbows and prisms into direct correlation with patterns of energy, combined with solar power in my mind.
Turning around, facing the east, seeing all the sunshine being directed towards the west.
Focusing lime lights of inferior magic onto reflections of make-believe.
Sanctioning memories, giving them room to breathe and inducing moments to be made.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem