So as every kind of harmony includes its own
opposite one - a firm and disintegrating seed
of confusion continuing in a secret growing -
so the confusion itself.
So the confusion (probably) contains
its soft, inner and freshly red juice of harmony.
(‟Oh, I know that birds can fly
and fish can swim
and animals can run.”)
The point, the immobile seed of circle, the seed
of moving, the seed of whatever on the edge of doom,
the very centre of pulsing and of neoplatonic
emanations of the universe...
If it intends to become a true and regular circle
- and to become a part of its being - and to be
an absolute harmony, a maximal multi-angled shape,
a tautology of its own symbol
and not to be only a concave or convex,
elipse-like or misty shape,
a figure of the fusion of will and desire
- and not of power - so it has to grow
in every direction, simultaneously.
The female wins the male thanks to her restlessness:
the standstill always humbles her
and the number of people increases. Inside the every one
of them the dead end is the longing for harmony.
Peter Macsovszky (born 1966) Slovakia
Translated by Martin Solotruk
Source: Visgrad Magic Cube
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