Circular motions curling up within areas of thought,
winding them up, then letting them go, watching their
reactions as ideas and concepts begin to flow easily.
Loving to play with intricate parts of my brain and
interior universes, watching their peculiar ways of
contriving to have my mind think, ponder and write.
A truly brilliant brain filled with so many creative
endeavors and images, a never-ending accumulation of
everything I could possibly want to write about.
Constantly doing so regardless of whether there's a
thought or not within my mind at the moment I pick
up a pen and start writing to music.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem