Would silence in all it's sincerity
arise, as in bidden
and come to my aid
in art of transmission
fall in it's glory
and speak... clear of it's presence
dressed in eternity
and sovereignty of expression
most noble of creativity
integral disposition
ubiquitously expanding -
In truth... straddling
time's line
whilst it lies in dimensions
oblivious of momentum
alive to it's death... being born
as is spoken... not named
of cause -
To be ripped into
tangent's effects -
I Am That...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem