well it is nothing great
this whole realm
could be downloaded
into a space
smaller than the tiniest disc
everything reduced into energy
onto a disc where things move, live,
or stay stationery driven by energised thought
our universe the size of this thought
how much we see is how much we want to see
what we think becomes what we are
thoughts are set by the master
some springing from thought itself
a renewal of energy is actually death
the cursor that disappears for a moment
comes back to shine again
energy spirals from sphere to sphere
cell to cell, space to space
- in a little shiny disc that contains
the whole universe
and we are already in one
somewhere among billions of discs
in a container smaller than a cigarette box
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Whoah... is there any way to verify this!