A current flows forth from Eternity,
bearing within it all the worlds
and foundations of the Universe.
Its grasp is gentle, yet pervasive.
Nothing escapes the velvet glove
it wears with grace over steel.
Those within are too slight to see
or even grasp that they are swirled
along with its flow, and so dispersed.
None perceive the gift it strives to give.
Few feel the faint but insistent shove
to rise beyond the dust where they kneel.
Carving its course through banks of Time,
the current has no beginning and no end
foreseeable to itself or those it flows past.
For to all who fish from its shores
it will always be, has always been,
a fixture of Forever passing into Infinity.
It is its own, separate and sublime,
destiny's child sent out for itself to fend.
Of all things only its fate is cast.
Its end becomes its beginning once more
Leviathan Ourobouros, sight unseen,
the moebius strip guarding Eternity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A wonderful write - one with intellectual power and panache that demands it be read aloud.