Responding to calls of nature while sitting here inside by
the computer, writing.
Whiling away in wonder and curiosity, letting imagination
have it's turn with ideas being churned out through intellect.
Senses intensely filled with all types of scents, tastes,
and textures, coming into an existence on their own.
Playing in a mind of beginnings, tossing ideas around, finding
interior sequences of coded messages being sent steadily within
this soul to intellect.
Causing turns of events, conspiring to enlist outer dimensions
of space to become a part of the nucleus of original being.
Noticing the total textures of other worlds never being
expressed, in relation to what is already known here on earth.
Life becoming what it is made of from the very origins of
time in it's lonely space forever.
Coming into the light when reflected upon in memory's images,
and never being blended by the darkness of the night, as it
travels through the soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem