Triangular shapes making their way into my mind,
poking and prodding, giving me new avenues of sight.
Letting me be myself, giving insight beyond ordinary
comprehension.
Reliving experiences, seeing new angles never looked
at before this.
Relying solely on beautiful visions as they escape
and run rampant through leaves of my existence.
Carrying voices through the years, discerning every
particle of entreaty that alights upon the table of
my memory.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem