Wavering in the light of wonder, trying to respond properly,
yet knowing they cannot figure out the symmetry to do so in
concave enlightenment, totally preserving interior moments
of intellect without tarnishing any aspect of it's being.
Picking up the beginnings of original ideas, thinking and
bringing them into the circumference of an absolute dimension
of equational descriptions and intricate patterns of delicate
and intense mathematics in the systems of individual knowledge.
Never giving into the ignorance of any other being here on
earth, going instead to the 'what is and finding out the exact
reasons for their existence and not believing in any other
than the truth as it is being expressed and given in lightening
strikes of quiet intuition.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem