|
Behold that a path is created from these traces of ink, |
|
Letters join numbers |
|
Sounds come forth manifesting the plasticity. |
|
This is the direct outcome of the continuous war |
|
The collision of the worlds of change and stability |
|
One would sense the mind behind them |
|
If only he could withdraw from the relentless alterations of its forms |
|
I have swum against rivers of fallacy |
|
Chaotic symmetry, |
|
And have returned |
|
From the point of weakness |
|
To the root of triumph. |
|
Between the circular entrances of spinning dark suns |
|
I travelled with the company of a triangle |
|
To the dark corners of cosmos |
|
Geometry in static |
|
In frozen wells |
|
I left my seal for the future travellers |
|
Sunken trilithons bear my signature |
|
In wombs of yellow on the phosphoric remnants |
|
Of organisims with consciousness long erosed |
|
One would sense the mind behind them |
|
If only he could withdraw from the relentless alterations of its forms [Solo: Sotiris] |
|
Between the circular entrances of spinning dark suns |
|
I travelled with the company of a triangle to the dark corners of cosmos |
|
Geometry in static |
