to set in motion, perpetual
the visual point must be completely conceptual
aligned with fields of focus
a wind in the crocus?
the wind shall not cease
the flower shall however wilt
suppose a remedy for death would render
the crocus' ne'er ending breath
that moves its petals such.
to continue, unabated
in conjunction with mathematic function
the idea must more than approach infinites' gumption
the mechanics shall not wear
but the numbers so vastly piled shall comprise quite an unrelenting breadth
(and no one really knows such numbers yet)
that no one would comprehend its depth
so again we find a necessity of supernatural powers
to align this gigantic notion with this field of flowers
blowing so indefinitely towards a final hour.
for nothing, as so many folks do know
can move forever without an injection
of inordinate strength
in the right direction
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem