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 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