People can only stand for so much freedom and oppression.
Both elements should go in a slot for visionary purposes.
Enough quarters of land are inserted during space, time, and vacuum.
Obstacles get in the way.
Dreams work against us when reality is so questioned.
Light comes through a filter into possible abstraction.
When the drain is filled, our flow ends for a beginning in reverse.
Constant opposition leaves the red hand open.
Revealing darkness is just forgettable with lights in abstract.
Games are taken, relationship fails- the ongoing heat burns a degree.
Signals move within grasp for releasing thrust.
Authority gives off respect in haste while turning corners along.
Nature is created from destroying old moments, or, the momentum shakes.
Planting a seed becomes chaotic when this seed grows into another gardening hand.
Visuals transform into an unknown force under your dreaming pupils.
An unknown force is given to labels, stickers, wrappers, and produced language.
Both start and finish cover the mass until reaching twisted fate.
Humanity debates on the contortions, the knots above each reason.
The original reality gets blanketed with bursting instinct.
And, it takes refinement in personality for the faculty to stick by confidence.
How long does a tree grow?
Where do those branches hurt each other?
Even the roots are given to grounds of wild, dirty nature.
Soil eventually rots enough for burying again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem