Becoming a still life sitting immobile, one vertically
layered life moment is just a grey second measured
horizontally, we cannot dissect the beautiful vertical
layers while floating on top in one thin, horizontal line
only, unaware of the rest of the octave and the enormous
content of the vertical shafts penetrating reality, the mind
always stuck in the same thin, horizontal groove
All attempts to point a microscope at the full-colour spectrum
of a multi-layered vertical moment are blocked by the fast
moving horizontal spiral that refuses the physical body a
pause for observing everything contained therein – we live
life on the tip of an enormous ice floe, bodies attuned to the
rhythms of the solar system – while the mind is a free-
wheeling mechanism looking for release
From horizontal constraint - to penetrate the immeasurable
depths underneath…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem